Pitch Black: A New Twist
by AxidentlGoddess
Summary: PB. OFC, a new survior to the crash who's a mystery in and of herself. Why isn't she scared of Riddick, how can she see in the dark, just how will she change the future of our fav hero? Full Sum inside.
1. The Beginning

**AN:** Welcome to my second attempt at a Riddick Fic. Don't worry, to the thirty five people that have actually openned my other one, I will be continuing it. I just have to get this out of my head too. Now I know this isn't exactly a new notion, putting an OC on board the Hunter-Grazner when it crashes but like so many others I just couldn't avoid the inevitable 'what if' question. And you have to admit, they're so much fun. I'm hoping that my OC and the interactions that ensue will be new, interesting, and entertaining, however. I have to say, I rather like her. She's kind of a if-Riddick-had-a-little-structure, but I shall tell no more, for there are things that should be a surprise. And with that (and the following full summery and required disclosure) on with the fic!

**Disclosure:** Much to my consternation, I do not own any of the rights to Pitch Black or anything in the Riddick universe. Nor do I get to make any profits from this little spinner. The only things I own are the deviations from the plot and my OC. (Though if anyone wanted to fork over Vin to me, I certainly wouldn't protest...just something to bare in mind.) And yes, there are quotes straight from the movie, PB...I figure if I mention that in here I won't have to actually mark them. They're there, you know which ones they are, deal with it.

**Full Summery:** We all know the story of Pitch Black and we've all wondered at the 'what ifs'. What would happen if a single variable was changed? One character didn't die, another did, things shift slightly one way or another, another person survived the crash...This is the tale of Pitch Black with the latter, an OFC by the name of Lera Chase. She's not your typical survivor. A mystery in and of herself, who is this woman? How does she know the things she does, why isn't she scared of Riddick but instead seems to understand him, and just how is it she can see in the dark without a shine? Look deeper into the story of Pitch Black through the characters' own eyes and see how this new element affects them. Just what will she mean for their survival, their destruction, and the future that awaits them all? (PB and maybe beyond...)

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**Pitch Black: A New Twist**

**The Beginning **

In the depths of space the Hunter-Grazner floated along course, its inhabitants sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of anything thanks to their cryo-sleep units…well most of them. Riddick, though, lay awake, trapped within bindings, locked away from everything and as he had been for the last twenty-two weeks, with only his own thoughts to entertain him. He'd fear going mad, but considering how many people had told him he was crazy in the past, he figured there wasn't much to loose.

_They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep, all but primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I'm still awake. Transporting me with civilians, sounded like 40, 40 plus. Heard an Arab voice, some hudoo holy man, probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route? Smelled a woman; sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type. Free settlers, and they only take the back roads. And here's my real problem, Mr. Johns. Blue-eyed devil. Planning on taking me back to Slam. Only this time he picked a ghost lane. Long time between stops. Long time for something to go wrong…_

And when it did, he would be ready.

**ooOoo**

A pair of green eyes blinked open calmly, seemingly dull with boredom, the way they swept what they could see lazyily. But attentive. Always attentive. She hated these cryo-sleep tubes. Sleeping caskets. You were supposed to basically shut down inside them, sleep deep while your body was basically suspended. But she never did, never could. They said most of your brain was supposed to shut down…all but the primitive side. Perhaps she was more primitive than she liked to admit.

Noticing movement, her eyes strayed lazily to one of the compartments across from her. The convict, the prisoner. She'd gotten on ship too late to ask anything about him, but the lockout protocol announcing the forbidding of any early release spoke louder than words. And they spoke 'danger'. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she saw his head turnthis way and that, as though he was taking in his surrounding through the blindfold that covered his eyes. It took a lot of training and strengthening of the mind to overcome the sleep compulsion of the cryo-tubes. She had that, making it impossible for it to overcome her. Apparently he did too…

He was no normal prisoner. _Interesting…_

As though noticing her regard, the head of the prisoner turned in her direction. Her eyebrow twitched upwards, but his bound eyes weren't looking at her. They were looking at the sleeping casket next to her. Ahh, yes. Mr. Johns. She'd noticed his name before they made them all go nighty-night.

Her eyes drifted shut as she remembered that time some twenty-two weeks ago when she'd rushed on ship at the last minute, almost missing the flight. He had a dangerous baring hidden behind a charming smile and small town boy attitude. There was something about those blue eyes of his she didn't like, something hard and not quite sane. Probably a merc, and the prisoner directly across from him was his payday.

She fought a snort and leaned her head back. Mercs. Scum would be a better word. Generally she avoided them, couldn't stand them. Bunch of vultures. Usually not any better than the people they brought in, often times worse. There had only been a few she had ever met that were actually worth the skin they wore.

Green eyes snapped open as she was brought out of her contemplation on the different types of scum in the universe by a strange popping and pinging sound.

That wasn't right…

**ooOoo**

Carolyn Fry took a deep breath as her mind suddenly shrugged off the cryo-sleep. Why was she awake? Were they there already? She blinked her eyes sleepily and turned forward as the sound of a siren caught her senses. She saw the display, showing that she, the Captain, and the navigator were all being awoken. The date on the display showed that they were still at least eighteen weeks out from when that should happen. Shit, that only happened in an emergency.

A sharp pinging and ripping sound brought her out of her thoughts as she saw several small, fiery things rip through the cabin…right through the Captain's cryo-tub. All she could do was stare in shocked horror as he seemed to jerk in a grizzly dance while the projectiles went through him. Her jaw dropped as his vitals on the display flat lined and she frantically reached for the eject lever.

Hurtled from her compartment she had the wind knocked out of her a moment later as Owen, the navigator, landed right on top of her. Just her luck.

"Why did I fall on you?" he asked, sounding shocked. Carolyn bit back a sharp retort.

"He's dead," she said instead as Owen started to move jerkily off her. "The Captain's dead. I was looking right at him…" she cut off trying not to remember what she had seen.

"Crono says twenty-two weeks out. Gravity shouldn't kick in for another eighteen…why'd I fall at all?"

"Did you hear what I said?" Fry cut him off. "The Captain's dead."

They both looked at the perforated chamber and the Captain's still, slumped form. Carolyn gulped and looked away quickly from the morbid sight as Owen's head jerked towards her. After a moment of shocked stillness, only the sounds of the siren and leaking air surrounding them, they both shot up and headed towards the flight cabin.

**ooOoo**

Riddick took in the sounds around him as the flight became more and more turbulent. He heard the words of the two crewmembers and managed a grin around the bit in his mouth. Not an easy thing to do. Something, it appeared, had gone wrong. Now all he had to do was wait. And be ready…

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**AN:** A little short, I know, but future updates will be longer and hopefully more entertaining. This is really just a taste. Yes, I am going to be going through the story, but there will be certain changes along the way...I'm not saying what, you'll just have to read. Make sure to let me know what you think so far and as we go along and REVIEW! Thank you. And now back to our regurally schedualed programming... 


	2. Crashed

**AN:** Well, here's the second chapter and in less than twenty-four hours too. This is where you really get to meet my OFC, I hope you like her! I've really been wanting to toss a character like this into this story for a while and finally I said...WTF? Hopefully it will take a little different twist for all of you than has been done in the past. Enjoy!

**Disclosure:** Much to my consternation, I do not own any of the rights to Pitch Black or anything in the Riddick universe. Nor do I get to make any profits from this little spinner. The only things I own are the deviations from the plot and my OC. (Though if anyone wanted to fork over Vin to me, I certainly wouldn't protest...just something to bare in mind.) And yes, there are quotes straight from the movie, PB...I figure if I mention that in here I won't have to actually mark them. They're there, you know which ones they are, deal with it.

**Full Summery:** We all know the story of Pitch Black and we've all wondered at the 'what ifs'. What would happen if a single variable was changed? One character didn't die, another did, things shift slightly one way or another, another person survived the crash...This is the tale of Pitch Black with the latter, an OFC by the name of Lera Chase. She's not your typical survivor. A mystery in and of herself, who is this woman? How does she know the things she does, why isn't she scared of Riddick but instead seems to understand him, and just how is it she can see in the dark without a shine? Look deeper into the story of Pitch Black through the characters' own eyes and see how this new element affects them. Just what will she mean for their survival, their destruction, and the future that awaits them all? (PB and maybe beyond...)

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**Pitch Black: A New Twist**

**Crashed**

Green eyes snapped open and just as quickly snapped shut against the intruding light, their owner fighting off a groan at the harsh waking. She'd heard the alarms, felt the increasing turbulence, and known what it meant. She'd braced herself as best she could, once again cursing her confinement in this death-tube. Apparently she hadn't been braced well enough as her head had managed to hit something hard enough to knock her out. Perhaps that was a blessing, all things considered.

Her eyes opened again, slower this time, and she found herself staring at the ceiling of the ship through the partially shattered glass of her cryo-tube. She slowly undid her straps and pushed the remains of the door open, climbing out with a care to the sharp shards clinging to the frame. She managed to haul herself upright and half out and look around at the destruction.

It looked like a majority of the ship had been ripped away, everything in the passenger cabin behind her own pod was gone…littered behind the ship. If it had pulled off any more, she would have been with it.

_Damn,_ the thought breathed through her mind. _What is this, the third crash you've survived? Someone, somewhere must be looking out for you, Lera girl. Question is, do they reside above or below?_

Considering some of the ways her life had gone she never had been able to answer that.

Slowly, Lera took stock of her surroundings. Most of the passengers seemed to have bit the dust, literally. But she could hear voices coming from slightly farther in and turned her head that direction. Well, looked like she wasn't the only one being looked after today. Milling around were some…seven other passengers and they seemed to be working on getting an eighth out. They hadn't seemed to work far enough back to notice her yet. As she watched they used a torch to burn off the hinges of one of the doors and a kid rolled out but she wasn't close enough to hear whatever was exchanged.

She hauled herself over the edge of her overturned tube and landed softly on the floor of the compartment, her eyes straying to the one across from her. Apparently that side had faired a little better than hers. She blinked, seeing the 'locked-out' tube had been busted, the lights flickering on the display, and the occupant gone. She couldn't help the slight smirk that touched her lips at the irony of that.

_I wonder just how far he'll get…_she thought as she noticed that the one with the merc had survived as well, and was just as empty.

"Hey! You all right over there?" Lera turned at the sound of a woman's voice, heavily accented in what sounded like Earth Australian. Though really, it could have been from a number of the different colonies here towards the outer rim. She was dressed for hard work—heavy boots, leather vest, work pants, tool belt. She had been the one wielding the torch that freed the kid. Free Settler it looked like. And Lera was willing to lay odds that the dark skin man standing behind her and garbed like her was her partner, if not more.

"Pretty sure," Lera replied as she touched the back of her head where it had hit the compartment and winced. "Got a bump, bit banged up."

"Yeah," the woman replied as she approached with partner in tow, "aren't we all. Name's Shazza, this is Zeke. Free Settlers."

Lera nodded at them both and smiled friendly, doing a little mental 'ha' at being right. "Lera. Lera Chase. Unfortunate traveler."

Zeke snorted at that. "No shit."

"I don't know," Shazza said, "I'd say we're pretty fortunate. I mean, it could be a lot worse…" she trailed off with a nod towards the missing two-thirds of the ship. Both Lera and Zeke couldn't help but nod in solemn agreement.

The sudden noise of boots hitting metal coming from below them startled them all out of their revere and all three turned towards the sound. Lera blinked as she saw the blindfolded face of the convict emerging from a hatch. She'd heard of wandering blindly, but this was ridiculous…and he sure as hell could have heard them. As he continued to emerge the blonde, curly head of the merc appeared behind him with a gun at his back.

_Guess he didn't stay free for too long,_ Lera mused to herself as the merc pushed him up the stairs. _This time._ The fact of the matter was that they were crashed who-knew-where and with who-knew-what. Mostly likely, he'd get another chance.

As they started to pass the little group, though, the convict paused slightly, his shaved head turning towards her. Lera's eyes narrowed minutely as she swore he sniffed the air. _Is he **scenting** me?_ She watched as he frowned ever so slightly before the merc at his back pushed him on. _I knew there was something different about him if he was able to remain conscious during cryo-sleep…but to be able to **scent** people…that's a whole other level. Something tells me I need to find out who this guy is._

"Well damn, I know it sounds bad, but I'd kind of hoped he wouldn't make it," Shazza said, drawing Lera's attention back to her. She raised a questioning brow at her comment. "What, you haven't heard? That's Riddick. He's an escaped convict. Some kind of super killer or something. The guy who got him is called Johns. I must say, he must be one hell of a cop to have caught a villain like him."

Lera blinked. Cop? She looked back towards the room Johns had gone in as Shazza and Zeke moved off to help the others, only to see him come out a few moments later. She took him in—blue uniform-looking clothes, dressed and pressed appearance, badge. So, he was trying to pass himself off as a cop. Guess the folks here didn't run into too many cops if they didn't notice the faults with the disguise. Like the fact that that was the cheapest fake badge she had ever seen. Cop badges had markers on them, insignia that showed their affiliation to a specific planet or department. They had serial numbers so that the owner could be tracked. They weren't plated with nickel. And no cop, but no cop who would ever do the kind of run that Johns was supposed to be on would wear a uniform like that or his badge out in the open. Cops weren't the most beloved people, no matter what slice of society you came from and one doing a dangerous run like this would never openly display what they were.

Despite a lot of popular opinion, they were actually smarter than that.

As though he felt her eyes on him, Johns turned and looked at her. Lera offered him a slight smile, hiding her disgust, and saw him look her over. Obviously he liked what he saw as he offered her a leer in return.

_Great,_ she grumbled internally, _crashed on some planet somewhere, bump on the head giving me a headache, and now I just may loose my lunch. Not so sure someone's looking out for me after all._

Lera was jolted out of her thoughts of disgust as Johns was from his of appreciation by the sounds of frantic rustling up at the front of the cabin. They both turned and headed that way, arriving in time to see the woman Lera recognized as the docking pilot turn over a flight chair and its gruesome occupant. The navigator. She heard the others around her gasp and curse in shock as they all saw the metal rod piercing his chest. Lera's jaw clenched momentarily before she sighed. The others were starting to argue about whether or not they should pull the rod out, but Lera knew it wouldn't make a difference. The man was dead, or he would be soon. His near unintelligible shouts would soon degrade into plain screams of agony before dissolving into weak whimpers of a painful death. She'd seen men die of chest wounds like that before. It wasn't pretty.

"There's some anestaphine in the med-lock in the back of the cabin," the pilot, Carolyn Fry she remembered, cried desperately.

"Not any more, there's not," replied a man with a high-end British accent.

Lera watched the woman's face fall in despair, pain, and…guilt? Words rang through Lera's head from shortly before she was knocked out. They were the same words the navigation officer, Owen, had screamed out the moment he'd unfortunately regained consciousness. _'Don't you touch that handle, Fry!'_ Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in thought. She'd heard the sound of an airlock closing at the rear of the cabin just before the sudden jolt that announced a compartment dump. And she'd heard the sound of the airlock at the front of the cabin closing just after, only to be reopened again and wedged that way. The rest was bumpy blackness.

She'd purged the rest of the ship…had she tried to purge the passengers too? Is that what Owen meant by his hysterical cry? Was that why she looked so damn guilty?

"Everybody…get out," she heard the pilot say weakly and watched the rest of the passengers make their way out of the chamber and out of the ship, leaving her to see to her dying friend. Every single one of them left…save for her. There were a lot of questions in her mind that needed a lot of answers…but more than that, there was a man dying a very bad death. Lera never could seem to walk away from that.

**ooOoo**

Carolyn bit her lip against Owen's pained cries and ragged breathing while the others trooped out of the cabin. He deserved some dignity, at least. She just couldn't bear for the others to just stand around and watch him die.

She'd thought they were all gone, which is why she jumped when one of them suddenly squatted down across Owen's trembling body from her. Carolyn blinked. It was a woman. She had deep red hair, pulled back into a high pony tail, but some of the curls had escaped to frame her face. She was dressed in a tight tank, cargos, a jacket, fingerless gloves, and boots…all black that made her fair skin almost seem to glow in the low light. Carolyn blinked as she looked down at Owen, a sad, sympathetic look on her face as she gently stroked his brow. Carolyn was about to ask her what she thought she was doing when the woman spoke.

"It would be kinder to kill him quickly," she said in a soft tone, her voice smooth and deep, almost smoky.

"He deserves to live," Carolyn bit out.

The woman looked up at her and Carolyn found herself staring into a pair of large, light green eyes. There was a strange calmness to them, like nothing could rile her, not even the hard death in front of them. It was comforting and yet slightly disturbing at the same time.

"Yes," she said in that same, soothing tone, "he does. But he's not going to. We don't have the skills or the supplies needed to save him. He's going to die, Carolyn, and you need to accept that."

Carolyn's jaw clenched, her eyes stinging with the tears she refused to cry. Who the fuck did this woman think she was? Of course he was going to die, she'd known that since she first saw him.

"What the fuck good is that going to do?" she asked the woman harshly, realizing she didn't even know her name. "Who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Lera Chase," she said softly. "And I'm giving you a choice, it's yours to make." She reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out what looked like a small aid packet, flipping it open to reveal a small collection of various medical supplies and drugs. Carolyn watched her pick out a small vial with a slightly yellowish liquid.

"This is Cordin," she said. "It's a highly potent narcotic meant to relieve pain and relax muscles. If I give him a standard dose it will take away most of his pain, but he'll still die slow. If I give him a high enough one…it'll numb him completely, and stop his heart in a matter of minutes. It'll be quick and painless and his last few moments he'll only know peace. He's your crewmate, it's your choice."

Carolyn stared at the woman in complete shock, not really knowing what to make of it or what to do. She looked down at Owen's tortured form as he started to loose the fight with the pain. His cries were getting louder and each one seemed to cut at her soul.

"Do it," she bit out. Lera nodded at her once and withdrew a collapsed syringe from the pack, quickly filling it all the way. Carolyn watched her inject it directly into Owen's neck and moments later all signs of pain seemed to be erased from his face, his breathing easier. She bit back a sob as a slight smile touched his lips right before his eyes closed, Lera silent at her side. Finally, Owen released a last, sighing breath as he slipped into a quiet death.

"Thank you," Carolyn rasped out, almost jumping as she felt Lera's hand on her shoulder before barely hearing her light footsteps move out of the cabin, leaving Carolyn alone with her crewmate, her grief, and her guilt.

**ooOoo**

Lera sat crouched on the top of the ship where the rest of the survivors had gathered, staring off into the desolate world they'd crashed on. And man, what a crash. It stretched for miles behind them, a dismal trench of death and debris. She couldn't help but study the pattern of it, the way the pieces were spread out. Beyond the smaller bits that had obviously ripped off the main passenger cabin when they'd skidded to a halt she could see large sections in the distance. She wondered if anyone else noticed, if anyone else could even see them. And if they did, if they noticed the pattern.

She did. After all, it wasn't the first crash she'd been in and survived. She knew what it looked like when a bird went down, knew the different ways it could happen. She knew that the whole thing didn't go down as one. She was right, the other parts had been purged, jettisoned, detached probably in the hopes of lessening the rear weight to get the nose down. She snorted almost silently to herself, completely unnoticed by the others. Rookie mistake.

Thinking of Carolyn down there in the main cabin, filled with grief and guilt over the death of her crewmate, Lera couldn't help but shake her head in mild disgust. Carolyn had panicked, that much was obvious. And yet…she found she had a hard time truly blaming her. Lera knew they'd been hemorrhaging air, she'd seen the bits of whatever that had shot through the hull like it was paper. She'd heard Carolyn tell the navigation officer that the Captain was dead. It was pretty damn obvious that they'd gotten off course because of it and that a crash was eminent. Each of those things alone was enough to make someone without a lot of experience in emergency procedures panic. Put together and you had…this.

Still, there was that part of her that sneered in professional disdain. Lera had landed more ungainly birds than this, ones with worse damage and in worse conditions and not caused this kind of chaos and destruction. It was a fuckin' embarrassment. What the hell were they teaching pilots these days? Obviously not the joys of keeping your cool under pressure.

Lera sighed and in an almost unconscious movement reached into her pocket and pulled out a vial of eye-drops, tipping her head back and in a practiced movement, quickly putting one drop in each eye before blinking it in. Without thought, even, the cap was back on and the bottle was back in her pocket, a pair of wrap around sunglasses sliding onto her face.

_Damn,_ she thought, realizing what she'd just done, _this world is going to be murder on my eyes. If I do that automatically…definitely not a good sign._

Hearing a slight commotion from behind her, Lera stood to see Carolyn come to join the rest of them on the roof. She had to fight off the urge to march over there and give her a good dressing down about her flying skills. Some curses, degradations, maybe a good bitch-slap for some added spice. But she could see already how the others were turning to her for support and leadership. It made sense, she was the only surviving crew member, the only figure of some kind of authority in a frightening and desperate situation. It was natural that people would turn to her now. Who else would they go to? Her? Oh, hell no.

So instead, when the pilot met her shaded gaze briefly and gave her a tremulous smile and a slight nod of thanks, Lera returned it, not failing to notice the regret and misery hidden in the other woman's eyes.

_Well, at least it's obvious she at least regrets what she almost did. That's something at least. More than some. Now we'll just have to see what happens now…_

**ooOoo**

Fry made her way slowly up the side of the ship to where the others had gathered, not entirely sure how she was supposed to face them after what she'd done…what she'd almost done. She almost dumped them…if not for Owen, she would have. And yet, she was the one to live while he died. How wrong was that? She heard them talking about the air as she made her way up, about how thin it seemed, like they were one lung short or had just finished running or something.

_Funny,_ she thought dismally, _and here I thought that weight on my chest was just my guilt._

It was Shazza's voice, one of the free settlers that had bought passage, that drew her out of her thoughts, the first to meet her.

"There was talk of a scouting party, looking for other people. Then we saw this…"

Fry followed her direction and looked off the back end of the ship. Her jaw dropped. It was...horrifying. She could see the bodies scattered, some in their tubes, some not. The smoke and debris seemed to stretch on for miles. She knew the crash was bad, but she hadn't pictured this…this massacre. Had she really done this?

"What the bloody hell happened?" Zeke asked, sounding close to hysterical himself. He was Shazza's partner, she recalled. And he wasn't the only one looking to her for answers. Most of the others seemed to be as well. Well, the Muslims were down praying, but the rest…the British man, the kid, even the cop Johns had turned from his survey of the land to hear her answer. The only one that didn't turn was Lera. Save for the brief, veiled nod of acknowledgement she'd given Fry upon her entrance, Lera had merely stayed at the edge of the ship, crouched down and still, surveying the damage. It was strange, but the woman's still calmness was almost soothing to the battered pilot and she found herself staring at her back instead of the wreckage. Maybe she just couldn't look at it.

"Could have been a meteor storm," she said, her own voice sounding low and rough to her as she tried to hold back the tears she'd been crying over Owen. "Might have been a rouge comet. I don't know."

"Well," Shazza continued, "I, for one, am thoroughly grateful. The beast wasn't made to land like this…but I think you did well. Actually, the only reason we're alive is because of her."

Fry heard the others agree and couldn't find it in her to respond. She was watching Lera, her eyes seemed trapped, searching for some strange comfort in the stillness of the dark clad woman. That was probably why she saw her stiffen ever so slightly and turn her head…just enough to show she was paying attention. Probably nothing more than a normal reaction, Fry wanted to tell herself, but her conscience was waging war against her with each person that told her how well she'd done in saving their lives.

_It's a lie,_ he mind screamed at her, seemingly echoed now in the stiff back of the woman before her. _It's all a lie. A better pilot could have landed this. A better pilot would have been able to get the nose down. They wouldn't have panicked, they wouldn't have freaked. And they sure as hell wouldn't have ever thought of dumping the passengers to save her own ass. A better **person** would never have even considered it. _

"Don't you think so, Lera?" Shazza's voice drew Carolyn out of her self-recriminations. Her eyes snapped back into focus on the black-clad woman as she took a deep breath and stood with more grace than Carolyn could never hope to possess.

"Well," she said slowly, as though choosing her words, her eyes not leaving the wreckage of bodies and metal strew behind them, "it could obviously have been much worse. Ship could have rolled when it hit, or cart-wheeled, would have ripped us all to pieces." Carolyn watched with a feeling of dread as the woman turned to look at her, her eyes hidden by the dark sunglasses she'd donned. But still, it was like she could feel the piercing stare through them, knowing. "Just a damn good thing you managed to get the nose down."

Carolyn felt her eyes widen slightly as the others agreed and commended her on it, but her eyes never left those dark glasses. _She knows…_No, that was impossible. How could she know? _What if she's a pilot? She'd know what a crash looks like, how it gets to look that way…_

Suddenly, though, a smile lightened her features and she snorted, making Carolyn blink.

"Frankly," Lera continued, "I've been in a hell of a lot worse. Considering the fact that more than two people walked away and my leg isn't broken…I think I'm gonna call this a win."

There was a moment of silence following her comment before it was broken by the kid, Jack, she thought his name was.

"You've crashed before?" Jack asked in stunned disbelief.

Lera turned an amused grin on him, alleviating the tension that seemed to have built up in the pilot with her light tone. "Well, let's just say that's the last time I ever let my brother pilot anything."

The others chuckled at that and Fry let out a silent exhale. Lera, almost as though she heard it, turned to her and gave her a soft, warm smile. Fry tried to return it, but it came out a little shaky.

"Well," Paris asked in his high accent. "What now?"

Carolyn hesitated a moment, not really sure what to suggest. They were all looking towards her for leadership now and she felt like a hypocrite for it. They shouldn't be looking to her, she was the one that almost killed them all. What was she supposed to say?

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you," Lera said, filling in the silence before the hesitation could really be noticed, "but I'm gonna go look for my stuff. We may just be here a while and we're gonna need all the supplies we can get."

"I think Zeke and I can probably do something about the air problem," Shazza suggested. "A respirator of sorts. We've use something like that in mountain mining before."

"Yeah," Zeke nodded, "we should be able to find the parts to put something like that together."

"Water." They all turned to the until-now-silent Johns. "We're gonna need water, liquid of some sort. Desert like this, we're all gonna get thirsty real quick."

"Well, I've got some liquids in my belongings," Paris supplied, actually looking eager to be able to offer something. "They should be in that cargo compartment over there. Luckily it landed pretty well near us."

Fry nodded as though in agreement and the others seemed to take that as a good sign. "We don't want to get too separated," she suggested. "Get what you might need to get stuff out and we'll head over there in about ten."

The others nodded and started filtering below, but Fry stayed up on top for a moment. Lera stood there, seeming to watch her, the last one to make a move to go below.

"If I can find my bag," she said as she slowly approached, "we may be in a bit better shape. I've got some emergency stores in there; some rations, vitamins, hydro pills. The last will probably be the most important, but they're just emergency stores. With this number of people they won't last but a few days, if that. We're gonna need to find another source."

Fry nodded at the woman who now stood in front of her. Damn she was tall. Probably close to six foot herself. And when she was all serious like this Fry found her rather imposing, dressed all in black, not seeming to even sweat in the heat. Then she took a deep breath and smiled, and everything about her seemed to change. Relaxed, warm, friendly. So much so that Fry didn't even jump when she felt Lera's hand come down on her shoulder and squeeze.

"It's a shake up, I know," she said softly, gently. "But you gotta focus on the now. The past can't be undone, all we can do is live and make life better for it. If you let it eat you alive…you might as well have died."

She gave Fry one last squeeze on the shoulder and the pilot found herself taking a deep breath, her head dropping. Who was this woman that she seemed to know exactly what she needed? First in the flight cabin and now here…

"Come on," Lera said, slinging an arm around the smaller woman's shoulders. "We have a scavenger hunt to get to." She tipped her glasses down and looked Fry in the eye. "Okay?"

Fry nodded, bolstering herself in the sight of this calm, strong presence beside her.

"Okay."

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**AN:** And thus endeth chapter two. Amazing, two whole chapters and not a single cliff hanger. Something new for me. Anyway, now we've got the basics...they're crashed on the planet and taking stock. You know what's coming up in the next part, don't you? That's right...it's time for some Riddick! Gonna be interesting, I can tell you that! 

**Reviewer Response:**

SadisticFireMage: I'm glad you like my revamp so far, hopefully you like this one too! I try...

bre3354: Thanks. I have a really hard time writing from just one perspective, I'm just so omni. I like the OC's too, most of the time. I just hope you like mine.

**AN**: Well, only two reviews this time, but I guess that's what I get for posting so quickly and on a friday to boot. Well, hopefully I'll get more soon. Please, Read and Review!


	3. The Scent of a Woman

**AN:** Yo. Gotta say, I'm mucho pleased by the response this has gotten so far. I was a little worried that the notion for this fic was a little too 'done' to create much interest. It's not often I'm pleased to be wrong... I'm having a lot of fun with it so far, I hope you are too.

**Disclosure:** Much to my consternation, I do not own any of the rights to Pitch Black or anything in the Riddick universe. Nor do I get to make any profits from this little spinner. The only things I own are the deviations from the plot and my OC. (Though if anyone wanted to fork over Vin to me, I certainly wouldn't protest...just something to bare in mind.) And yes, there are quotes straight from the movie, PB...I figure if I mention that in here I won't have to actually mark them. They're there, you know which ones they are, deal with it.

**Full Summery:** We all know the story of Pitch Black and we've all wondered at the 'what ifs'. What would happen if a single variable was changed? One character didn't die, another did, things shift slightly one way or another, another person survived the crash...This is the tale of Pitch Black with the latter, an OFC by the name of Lera Chase. She's not your typical survivor. A mystery in and of herself, who is this woman? How does she know the things she does, why isn't she scared of Riddick but instead seems to understand him, and just how is it she can see in the dark without a shine? Look deeper into the story of Pitch Black through the characters' own eyes and see how this new element affects them. Just what will she mean for their survival, their destruction, and the future that awaits them all? (PB and maybe beyond...)

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**Pitch Black: A New Twist**

**The Scent of a Woman**

_Darkness...it always seems to come down to that, doesn't it? _Riddick fought off a snort. If they thought that was going to stop him they were kidding themselves.

Slumped back against the pole Johns had strapped him to in order to ease the pressure on his arms a bit Riddick seemed like the ideal prisoner. Slumped, cowed, shackled, blind. He left his head bowed down to try to help ease and stretch the muscles in his shoulders as he focused on the world around him with the senses he had left, reviewing his options.

He'd heard the others talking as they'd come back down from the top. So, they were crashed but bad. Guess that took away the option of using one of the emergency skiffs outta here. Apparently this part of the ship and a slightly distant cargo container were all that were left. No matter, didn't mean he wouldn't get away, it just might take a little more finesse. And finesse was something he was good at.

"He just escaped from a maximum security prison."

Riddick tipped his head a little bit at the sound of Johns' voice behind him to hear a little better, fighting down the instant anger at the thought of him. Blue-eyed devil. Damn bastard. Using a freakin' kid to capture him..._couldn't have got me any other way. I know he started that fire. I know he tried to toast those kids just to get to me. And they call me the cold-blooded killer..._

"So do we just keep him chained up forever?"

Ah, he recognized that voice...the female pilot. He'd heard her before...when the alarms went off for the ship, in the main chamber when her crewmember was dying. That would make her the only surviving crew. Interesting.

"Well, that'd be my choice."

"Is he really that dangerous?" Her voice dropped into a whisper, like he couldn't hear her. He'd spent his life heightening his senses, it was an edge that kept him alive in a universe that kept trying to kill him.

"Only around humans." Riddick couldn't fight the snort at the hypocrisy of that, his jaw clenching as he remembered the smoke, the screams, the bright, bright light. Was he dangerous, sure. In his world you were either dangerous or dead. But there was a difference, a big fuckin' difference between his kind of dangerous and Johns' kind. Riddick was the kind of dangerous that meant continued survival. Johns, however, was righteously dangerous, a much worse kind in Riddick's opinion. He had right on his side, so basically felt free to do whatever the fuck he wanted. After all, he was the 'good guy'. Riddick flashed a mental sneer. If the universe saw guys like Johns as a good guy, Riddick would rather rule in Hell.

He heard them wander off, talking about finding supplies and contemplated his situation. Things were going to be more difficult than he'd thought. First of all, they were apparently crashed and torn to pieces on some asshole of a planet with nothing and no one nearby. That meant that even if he got away he'd have to stay close. They were rounding up whatever supplies they had right now, and he was guessing after a crash like that there wouldn't be much. He'd have to stick nearby if he wanted his share. He would have thought for a moment about not escaping yet, but passed it off. Considering everything Johns was telling them about him he'd be more likely to get a part of the leftover supplies if he raided and scavenged them than if he stayed here and relied on their 'kindness'.

The barely there sound of a footstep on metal drew him out of his thoughts of escape and human hypocrisy. He went still, instinctively both tensing and relaxing his muscles in preparation of a fight, even though he was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. He could barely hear the footsteps entering the room, moving slowly. The floor of the ship was metal and littered with debris, not to mention not all that sturdily constructed. It was really, really hard to move so quietly on a floor like this. But who...

A slight scent wafted past his nose, bringing an immediate frown. It was that same scent he'd caught when Johns had brought him back right after the crash. A woman, that much he could tell, but not much else. He had found in the past that he could usually tell a lot about a person by what scents clung to them but with her...it was light, crisp, soothing, and yet with an undertone of spice. Maybe just her natural scent, maybe some kind of soap, but there was nothing there he could recognize to tell him anything about her. That alone made him cautious, if her ability to walk without noise hadn't already done the trick. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't normal.

"Hello there," a voice called out softly from in front of him and slightly to the side.

Her voice. Hmm, he recognized that voice...from when the navigation officer was dying. From where Johns had stashed him, he'd been able to hear everything that had gone on. It had made him curious about the woman the voice belonged to. Deep for a woman, smooth, with a slight huskiness that could make the coldest man warm. Not affected, though, like so many so-called seductresses he'd met in his time. Not false like the whores that littered the back-alleys he tended to call home. No, it was natural, unconscious, confident, and edged with sophisticated intelligence like he hadn't run into much in his life. Not surprising. It was the first real clue he had about her since her scent had failed him.

The second had been how she handled herself in the face of a dying man; from what he'd picked up a pretty grizzly sight with that piece of metal sticking through him. There weren't many who could remain so calm and reassuring in the face of something like that. Fewer still that had a supply of a high grade narcotic like Cordin on them. When he'd heard the voice without anything to put it with he'd thought that perhaps she was a Doc of some kind, but now he doubted it. Medicals always had the sterile scent of disinfectant around them that never quite came off. She didn't.

"I don't mean to disturb you," her voice continued as she moved near-silently around the room, "I'm just trying to find...ah! There it is."

The exclamation was quickly followed by the sounds of shifting material as something was apparently dug out of the debris. A moment later he heard the sound of some kind of heavy-duty cloth being set down somewhere behind and slightly to the side of him, probably on the bulkhead his little beam was attached to, and a zipper being undone.

"My bag wasn't in the cargo holds," the woman said, as though explaining to him what she was doing. "I was the last aboard so the holds were all sealed up. Only had the one bag, though, so the Captain said they could simply secure it in one of the main compartments. Wasn't sure where it got shifted to in the crash, almost thought maybe it got sucked out when the back end got shredded."

He couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hell she was talking to him, probably just to ease her own nerves. He noticed that a lot of people tended to talk when nervous and he tended to make people nervous. Even bound and gagged as he was. There was just one thing that made him doubt that…she didn't sound nervous at all. In fact, as she continued she seemed completely at ease, almost like she was holding a conversation with a friend instead of a captured murder. Maybe she just didn't know who he was.

But at least now he knew why he hadn't recognized her scent before, he'd already been in his cryo-tube before she'd gotten on board.

As she'd been talking he'd heard the sound of several zippers opening and rustling as though she was going through the contents. After a moment she sighed in what sounded like relief.

"Good. It's all here." The woman snorted. "You know, it's ironic," she mused quietly to herself. "I almost missed the flight. Bought last minute fare, almost didn't make it on-board. I remember thinking that someone must have been keeping an eye on me. Though considering everything, don't think I can rightly say whether that someone was watching from above or below." She snorted lightly again. "Never have been able to tell that..."

There was silence for a moment in which Riddick figured she was contemplating the fortunes of her life. Frankly he usually didn't waist his time with shit like that. Fact of the matter was, what was...was and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. All you could ever do was move on from there. Though he had to admit, he had a feeling that if anyone was watching him, they most likely were looking up instead of down.

Suddenly he felt hands lightly touching near his face and jerked his head back, almost hitting it on the beam he'd been tied to. He cursed mentally as her light scent wafted over him.

"Easy..." the woman's voice came soothingly, as though trying to settle a skittish colt, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just want to take the bit out."

Riddick's brow furrowed, half in confusion and half in agitation. He hadn't heard her move at all that time and that was something he didn't like. She'd been behind him and to the side, at least five steps from where she was now, and he hadn't heard a single one. As far as he was concerned that only meant one thing...he'd only heard her before because she'd wanted him to. And that didn't exactly sit well.

He felt her hands reach up again to the sides of the bit and trace it slowly back. He could feel her fingers glide over the metal and her body move closer as they circled around behind his neck, her scent washing over him. Mmmm, it had been a long time since he'd smelled a woman this tasty. The women in the areas he tended to travel were generally as tough and hardened as the men and smelled just about as bad. Cheep perfume mixed with sweat, dirt, and other foul things most times. Sometimes it was a curse to have a sensitive nose, but right now it was more of a blessing.

She fiddled with the mechanism at the base of his skull for a moment as he leaned his head forward to give her a little more room…towards her. He just couldn't help but take a sniff. Usually that kind of thing tended to make people nervous but she didn't respond at all, completely focused, it seemed, on her task. He wasn't sure how to take that. He liked getting reactions out of people and she wasn't exactly providing that. It was either a good thing or a bad one. Good would be that she just didn't notice because she was so focused. If she was the type that failed to be aware of the world around her in favor of a task he could certainly use that in his favor. Bad, however, would be that she noticed but it just didn't effect her. That could be more difficult.

And then, there was his ego to consider.

After a much shorter time than he thought possible there was a slight 'snicking' sound and the lock came undone. Another clue, she could pick locks. The only other way would be if she got she key from Johns, and he doubted that very much. Interesting…

She traced her hands back around the bit straps until she could take it from his mouth. Once it was out Riddick stretched his sore jaw, hearing it pop a couple times. He almost flinched again when he felt the woman's fingers press into the point of his jaw bone. If he could have blinked, he would have. She was massaging the sore muscles back to life. This was definitely strange. She had to want something, but what was the question.

"Why?" he asked in a low tone once she moved her fingers away.

There was a slight pause and he wondered at the expression that might have crossed her face. Damn, fuckin' blindfold. He knew what her voice sounded like, he knew what she smelled like, but he had no damn idea what she looked like. Hell, he didn't know what any of them looked like and it bothered him. He was used to being able to see no matter where he was. That was the whole damn point in getting the shine on his eyes.

He jerked back again as something brushed his lips, this time hitting his head lightly on the beam behind him. He growled lowly at her answering chuckle, as deep and smooth as her voice.

"Jumpy, aren't we?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement. He scowled at her, growling again. "Sorry. The reason I took off your bit was to give you this…" she brushed whatever it was against his now tightly closed lips again. "It's a hydro pill. In case you didn't hear from the others, this appears to be some kind of desert world. Tends to happen with two suns. It really dry, and it's already sucking the moisture from your body. We don't have any water, but one of these will keep you hydrated for about twenty-four hours…maybe a little less in this heat."

She put it to his lips again but he didn't budge. Sighing slightly she raised it to his nose and after a moment he took a whiff. Huh, smelled like a hydro pill, but still…how the hell was he supposed to know it wasn't laced with something? He didn't know her and he didn't trust anyone. Even more so if they were offering to help him with no apparent reason. There was always a reason, generally it was some kind of price. That's just the way it was.

The woman sighed again, this time sounding a little exasperated. "What, do I have to lick it first to prove something?"

Riddick smirked, smelling an opportunity. "Sure, but just how will I know you actually did? I can't see shit with this blindfold." If he could just get her to take the blindfold off he'd be that much closer to getting out of here. Without being able to see anything around him he was basically stuck.

There was a slight pause as she was apparently thinking it over. Riddick kept his expression as blank as possible, save for a slight smirk designed to annoy her into acting without thinking. It didn't work exactly like he'd planned.

Without warning she placed the pill against the crease of his lips again, but he clamped shut. Instead of her pulling it away this time, though, he felt her lean in, her breath brushing his face. She paused there for a moment, her breath slightly sweet like honey-comb, ghosting over his lips and cheeks. Holy shit, she wasn't…

He felt her tongue touch his lips near one corner of his mouth and drag across them slowly, swirl over the pill, and to the other side. _Shit…_his mind breathed. _This bitch has balls._ He tried not to shift in any kind of reaction, but the woman had just licked his mouth.

"Satisfied?" she asked, once again seemingly amused. His eyes narrowed behind the blindfold. If that's how she wanted to play, then she'd picked the wrong guy to mess with. He wrote the book on this kind of game.

"Mmm," he hummed deeply, his own tongue darting out to run over his lips as though he was taking in her taste. "Not hardly. But it's a start," he purred at her.

He heard her click her tongue ever so slightly and then felt the pill again, this time he opened his mouth but before she could pop the pill in he leaned forward and caught her fingers in his teeth. Disappointingly enough, she didn't gasp. He twirled his tongue around her fingers and the pill for a moment before sucking it out of her two digits, continuing to suck them as he pulled back and let them leave his mouth, licking his lips again as he finished. He swallowed the pill easily and smirked at her.

There was silence for a moment while he tried to determine her reaction. Seduction was the oldest game in the book and he was a past master. He knew how he looked and how women tended to respond to it. If he could get her panting after him he could get her to do almost anything he wanted. And right now, chained and blind, that was an advantage he could use.

"Well," she said after a moment, her voice tinged with slightly amused sarcasm, "I hope you've had all your shots."

Riddick paused. Okay, not the response he had been expecting. There wasn't any sign whatsoever that he had had any kind of effect on her. Huh. Either she was gay, or she was better at this game than he'd thought.

"I was going to check you for injuries," she continued in a dry tone, "but now I'm slightly worried that you'll start dry-humping the air. Think you can control yourself, or is your merc not the only one into bondage?"

Riddick raised an eyebrow at that, caught between a frown of annoyance and a grin of amusement. There were so many things so wrong with what she'd just said that he settled for the only safe topic.

"Merc?"

"Yeah, you know, the guy who gave you those pretty bracelets."

"Others seem to think he's a cop."

He heard a snort. "Well, then the others failed to notice just how bad a fake that badge is."

Interesting. Apparently she knew enough to see through Johns' disguise. The only question was, from which side of the line had she seen it?

"So, you got that beast under control yet?" she asked, her tone still sarcastically amused. He just grunted at her. "As much as I'm going to hate myself for asking, is there anywhere in particular you might have gotten hurt?"

"Why do you care?"

That one actually seemed to give her pause. "My nature, I guess," she answered after a moment.

"You do realize I'm a prisoner, right?"

"So _that's_ why you were all bound and gagged," she drawled at him. "And here I thought Johns just had a thing for tying up attractive men."

Riddick decided to ignore the implications of that. Far too disturbing even for him. "You know what I did?"

She started checking him over as she continued to talk in a casual manner, like the topic of the potential crimes of the man she had her hands on didn't bother her in the slightest. "Not the particulars. Heard a few things. Like that you just escaped from a triple-max Slam. Which one?"

"Butcher Bay."

Her hands paused as they were checking his ribs. "Damn," she breathed. "Congratulations. Word is the Devil himself wouldn't rent a room there. You must be as much of a big, badass as they've been saying to pull that off. I've only ever heard of one other person making out of there alive." She moved slightly towards his back. "Hold still, I'm going to put some ointment on the scrapes on your arms, it might sting a little."

Riddick didn't even flinch as she gently applied some kind of salve to the scrapes he'd gotten during his previous, short escape. Instead, his mind was focused on what she had just said.

"I'm the only person that's ever managed to escape from Butcher Bay," he refuted gruffly, strangely affronted that she'd claim otherwise. It was, for him, a matter of personal pride that he'd managed to escape from somewhere no one else had. And how the hell would she know that, anyway?

He felt her shrug from where she had her hands on his arms. "If you say so."

She moved back around to the front and he heard her huff. "Damn, that just can't be good for you," she muttered to herself. "He's got your joint's damn near hyper extended."

Riddick wondered again just why she would care but kept it to himself. When she stepped up next to him and started massaging the muscles in his shoulders, though, he couldn't help but feel surprised.

"What are you doing?" he asked, turning his blind face slightly towards her.

"Knitting a sweater," she drawled. "What does it look like? I'm loosening up your muscles before they seize. Fuckin' mercs," she started muttering more to herself than anything. "I swear, it's like cruelty is in their genetic code somewhere. Makes you wonder, do they become mercs because it lets them get away with being cruel or do they become cruel after being a merc? Total chicken and the egg scenario."

Riddick listened to her mutter to herself with a feeling of confused disbelief. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe she was some king of medic. Hell, dancing could give someone the grace to move silently. The only people he'd ever met before who would treat someone's wounds and discomforts without a care as to who they were or what they did were medicals. And even then it was kind of hit and miss.

Why in the world was she doing this? It made absolutely no sense. At first he had thought she was like so many women before her and drawn to the mystery, danger, and aesthetics. But she hadn't responded to any of that. And yet she was still treating him, and gently at that. And she had a supply of Cordin on hand. And didn't seem all that disturbed in the face of a gruesome fatal injury. But that didn't explain how she knew anything about Butcher Bay. Or how to pick a lock. Just who the hell was this woman?

She finished up massaging his shoulders actually much too soon for his liking. It had been a long time since he'd felt a gentle touch, and it had felt really good on his overstretched arms. But at least he had some feeling back in them again. Once she was done with that she moved up his neck slightly and examined his face, turning his head this way and that, probably looking for more things to put her ointment on.

Actually, if they had been in better surroundings all of this would probably have been a major turn on. As it was he couldn't claim to be as unaffected as he outwardly appeared.

A sharply drawn breath through her teeth caught his attention as she stilled in her examination, his head held to the side.

"Shit," she breathed out, "you are one, lucky bastard, you know that?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Besides the fact that he had a nice smelling woman's hands on him he wasn't seeing much of the luck these days.

"Look…" she said and ran her finger over a section of the blindfold. Her finger seemed to catch on a bit of the cloth and there was a sudden bit of light. He turned his eye slightly and found himself staring at a black clad chest of decent proportions. "Whatever it was that caught on and tore this came damn close to getting your eye with it. Yeah, I'm sticking with lucky."

Shit, he hadn't even noticed that. When had that happened? During the crash? When Johns had managed to pull him down from the cabling? She was right, the hole was almost directly over his eye. If it hadn't just caught the cloth, chances were he'd be one eye short.

"Well," her voice drew him out of his slightly stunned thoughts. "I guess that's it. I should really be joining the others anyway. Paris said something about having liquids in his stuff over at that cargo hold that managed to survive. Most of the others are over there, and if it's taking them this long then it must really be a mess to got through."

"You always this helpful?" he asked with a slight sneer, tipping his head slightly towards where she had moved to pack up her things.

There was a slight pause before a muffled bark of laughter. "It's all a matter of degrees, Riddick."

His brow furrowed. He waited for her to say something else, but only heard the zippers closing. He heard her pick up the bag and move to leave the room without another word.

"Wait," he called out and heard her ever-so-faint footsteps pause. "Who are you?"

"Name's Chase," she said. "Lera Chase."

"Hmm…" he growled, dipping his head down slightly, a smirk on his lips she couldn't see. "I'll remember that."

**ooOoo**

Lera lounged against the cargo hold, mostly obscured by some of the more twisted metal, as she watched the living shadow creep from the remains of the ship. She knew that the shade she was standing in would do no good in concealing her, not from him. She'd caught the little bit of silvery glimmer through the hole in the blindfold. He'd had his eyes surgically shined. A slightly dangerous procedure, especially since it was outlawed, meaning that no reputable doc would do it. And odds were he'd gotten them done in a Slam, which meant the possibility for the procedure going horribly wrong increased by a factor of ten. But it helped explain just how he'd managed to pull of a feat that only one other person ever had. Butcher's Bay was a dark and murky place from all account, filled with chaos, violence, and madness. You'd need to see in the dark to even have much of a chance of survival, much less escape.

Still, from the distance she was at and how she had positioned herself she would still be damn hard to see and she had little fear that he would catch her here watching him. He was good, she had to give him that. Shazza and Zeke weren't fifty feet from him working on putting together some kind of apparatus, probably those breathers they'd mentioned. Jack was with them, watching with interest and aiding where he could. And yet not one of them noticed the well muscled man slip out of the ship so near them.

She hadn't really had much in the way of doubt that he'd escape from there, it really was a poor setup. The beam Johns had tied him to was broken, but not high up enough to prevent Riddick from doing what she'd guessed he had. Granted, not a lot of people could dislocate their own shoulders like he must have done to rotate his arms right. She'd also noticed the cutter hanging within grabbing distance. But if Johns thought Riddick couldn't move his arms from behind him there wouldn't have been much worry that he could reach the cutter and effectively cut himself free.

Silly merc.

_Not like you didn't help him_, her mind reminded her, but she gave a mental shrug, not particularly caring. Yes, she had made it easier for him to escape. Pulling out the little piece of torn blindfold so that he could see, loosening up the muscles in his shoulders that added the maneuver to get out, leaving the cutter in reach. But the fact of the matter was that he would have gotten out on his own anyway. Johns had been stupid to chain him up where he had. And frankly, it wasn't her job to make sure he stayed put.

Lera watched as he left the ship, a pair of goggles covering his eyes, and dropped his restraints in the sand, heading towards hard ground before circling back around. _Smart boy_, she mused as he disappeared behind a crag. _A misleading trail, then circle around where your footsteps can't be traced. If I didn't know better, I'd say he had training. Then again, he's survived all this time, probably better training than you could get anywhere._

She had to admit, he was an interesting individual. She'd heard about him before, of course. She'd had to have been living under a rock, in the back end of a dark cave, on the edge of nowhere not to have heard of Richard B. Riddick. His exploits were legendary, though the telling tended to reek of over-exaggeration. After all, he didn't look the nine feet tall that his legend proclaimed, maybe a little over six. While the shine job he'd had done on his eyes would seem to glow in the dark she doubted very much that hey shot laser beams or fire. And he certainly didn't have fangs, considering the method by which he'd chosen to take his pill she and her fingers could certainly attest to that.

She had to fight a smirk at that. She refused to take the blame for starting that little game. After all, he was the one that kept smelling her. She _had_ been a little surprised to find out that her earlier guess was right, he could scent people. It was a rare ability, such a sensitive sense of smell, and one not many humans possessed. But it was one thing to scent someone, it was something else to keep leaning forward and taking big whiffs.

And when it came to that pill she just couldn't help herself. While she had to admit that a part of her was attracted to him, she couldn't claim that that was what it had really been about. Yes, he had one of the better bodies she'd ever seen and that deep, sinful voice. She'd been a little surprised by his looks, while she'd heard of him before she'd never actually seen him and any pictures of him were grainy, hence why she hadn't recognized him on the ship. But it wasn't about any of that...he was just so damn arrogant. Lera had been around a lot of arrogant men in her life and she had never been able to resist the urge to fuck with them. Bring them down a few pegs.

A slightly evil grin spread across her features. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it. Probably she shouldn't have egged him on. Probably it was a silly and juvenile thing to do. Probably she had just sexually frustrated a known violent killer. Her grin spread a little further.

An excited exclamation from inside the cargo hold drew her attention from thoughts of the man she'd just watched escape. _Well, looks like they found something. Better put in an appearance with my two cents._

She took one last look in the direction she figured Riddick had circled around to, absently putting a drop in each eye, before turning around to join the others.

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**AN:** And another chapter done! And what do you know, almost all of it is completely original. Of course nothing like this existed in the orginial movie, but then again, neither did Chase. I hope y'all liked her interactions with Riddick so far...it's bound to get interesting.

**Reviewer Response:**

**Areai Moonlight:** Thanks! I like Lera too, she'd lots of fun. I'm trying to stick _basically_ to the original movie plot, but there are going to be a couple changes, I'm sure. I always looked at Pitch Black as more of a character movie, because let's face it, it's a Sci-Fi horror movie and those are always a little thin on plot. But PB is just so rich with what they do with the characters...that's where you should expect to see some interesting developments.

**Mordecay:** Thanks, I'm glad it's working out. Yes, Lera definately has her strangeness...she's complicated. But then, she's a woman, so that's probably a little redundant. ;) I don't want to give too much away, but no, she's not a mutant. But like my Great Aunt Ginny would say...she's definately something else!

**bima:** Stories with extra characters can definately be fun. Gives us authors a way to make things how _we_ want them. Ha...take that writing gods!

**FitMama:** Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it and like my OFC. Lera's definately an interesting mix, I'll tell you that. Hope you liked her introduction to our favorite heroic villain!


	4. One Step at a Time

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay folks! I'd make some kind of excuse, but I don't really have any. The inspiration fairy just didn't come to visit. It took a friggin long ass time to get this section written up. Funny, when I started this thing I didn't think it would get quite this involved...but I just couldn't help myself. I've always thought of PB as a character movie (as opposed to plot) and I just can't help from wanting to explore some of those characters a bit more. I hope you're all enjoying it so far. And guess who we get to hear a little from this time?

**Disclosure:** Much to my consternation, I do not own any of the rights to Pitch Black or anything in the Riddick universe. Nor do I get to make any profits from this little spinner. The only things I own are the deviations from the plot and my OC. (Though if anyone wanted to fork over Vin to me, I certainly wouldn't protest...just something to bare in mind.) And yes, there are quotes straight from the movie, PB...I figure if I mention that in here I won't have to actually mark them. They're there, you know which ones they are, deal with it.

**Full Summery:** We all know the story of Pitch Black and we've all wondered at the 'what ifs'. What would happen if a single variable was changed? One character didn't die, another did, things shift slightly one way or another, another person survived the crash...This is the tale of Pitch Black with the latter, an OFC by the name of Lera Chase. She's not your typical survivor. A mystery in and of herself, who is this woman? How does she know the things she does, why isn't she scared of Riddick but instead seems to understand him, and just how is it she can see in the dark without a shine? Look deeper into the story of Pitch Black through the characters' own eyes and see how this new element affects them. Just what will she mean for their survival, their destruction, and the future that awaits them all? (PB and maybe beyond...)

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**Pitch Black: A New Twist**

**One Step at a Time **

Carolyn wrapped her arms around herself, a poor substitute for comfort, as she watched Johns pull out his weapons. And here she thought things were bad enough. Riddick escaping was news no one had needed to hear.

Things had been going so well...well, as good as could be expected. Paris had found his cargo and the hooch in it, while not helpful for hydration really, did get rid of that dusty feeling in the back of your throat. And frankly, the buzz was not unwelcome given the circumstances.

The hydration issue was solved by Lera, at least temporarily. Those hydro pills were a blessing and so were the dry rations she had. Still, it did make Carolyn wonder a moment why she'd have something like that. She'd said they were part of her emergency supplies she kept for eventualities...that she liked being prepared. Carolyn and the others decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it wasn't like they couldn't credit her preparedness considering the situation they found themselves in. But still...

Just about then Johns had stormed back in under a thunder cloud, cursing up a blue streak that had Shazza slapping her hands over Jack's ears, and told them all that Riddick had escaped, he'd found the restraints some distance from the ship. He'd immediately started riffling through the hold looking for his weapons case, dragging what he had to the main ship, suggesting they all find some kind of weapon.

Carolyn had frozen, everything seeming to go still in her at the news. Zeke had cursed and Shazza had gone pale. Jack blustered but the fear was easy to see in the boy's eyes and he practically clung to the others. After a moment of terrified babbling Paris wrapped his dignity around him and muttered something about weapons in his things, heading to the cargo container to gather them. That had calmed the others somewhat. The only one that hadn't reacted poorly was Lera. She had just looked at Johns and raised a brow before leaning back against the wall and watching the rest of them. Carolyn found her own eyes kept drifting back to the strange woman, half in question and half in seeking. There was something very comforting about the woman's calmness in face of this new and terrifying development.

Still, Carolyn couldn't understand how the woman could seem so calm when faced with the news that the convict was on the loose. Maybe she was just a calm person, Carolyn mused. After all, she seemed to take everything that had happened to them so far with a kind of calm detachment that was both comforting and disconcerting. The others Carolyn could understand, but this woman was a mystery.

What were they going to do? What was _she _going to do? They had enough facing them at the moment; finding water, salvaging what they could, trying to find a way to get off this damn rock. And now they had to worry about some murdering bastard stalking them? It was starting to remind her of some horror movie plot. What next? Monsters from the deep dark coming out to eat them all? Her mind started running around in little circles as the thoughts crowded around themselves until…

Carolyn jumped as she heard the hatch slam open and was slightly relieved that she wasn't the only one. A moment later Paris lumbered in under the weight of his...load.

"And what the hell are these?" she asked staring at what looked like some kind of giant pick axe.

"Martho Crovian war picks from Northern India. Very rare," he started to say, almost preening over his prizes as the others moved a little closer to see.

"And this?" Zeke asked as he pulled out a strange, dark tube from the jumble in dignified man's arms.

"That's a hunting blow dart pipe from Papa New Guinea, and that's very, very rare as the tribe is now extinct."

Zeke snorted and damn near sneered at the man. "'Cause they couldn't hunt shit with these things would be my guess."

"Well, look, what's the point anyway?" Paris asked, seeming much more calm than he had been before. "I mean, the man is gone, he's gone. Why should he bother us?"

"Maybe to take what you got," a low, calm voice cut through the air in Johns' southern drawl. Carolyn's eyes jerked over to him, seeing him strap on an armored vest. "Maybe to work your nerves," he turned to the rest of them, a slight smirk on his face that had Carolyn shivering. "Or maybe he'll just come back and skull fuck you in your sleep."

There was a moment of silence after that before Johns headed out while everyone let it sink in. _Shit_, Carolyn cursed mentally, trying not to show just how unnerved she was. These people were looking to her now for comfort. Personally, she was just glad to have a cop on their side.

**ooOoo**

Lera's eyes narrowed as they followed Johns out of the hold. She didn't like him, and it went beyond her general prejudice against Mercs. She didn't like Mercs because they would work for the highest bidder, go after someone just for the paycheck. They didn't give a damn about the circumstances as long as the credits cleared. Their loyalty could be bought and sold and even then they were loyal to two things only…money and their own hides. Sure, she'd met a couple decent Mercs in her time, but they were very few and very far between…the exception, not the rule.

Johns was far from being an exception.

Besides his chosen profession, there was just something about him that rubbed her wrong. Perhaps it was the fact that he was masquerading as a cop in order to get respect and cooperation he was hardly due. Perhaps it was the arrogant smirk that always seemed to mar his lips. Perhaps it was the casual way he went about scaring the piss out of these people without even seeming to give a damn. Worse yet, from that little smile he'd had as he'd walked out, she'd say that he'd rather enjoyed it.

He was a Jonny, she decided, that's what rubbed her the wrong way. A Jonny B Cool. A guy that played the big and shining to get the attention he wanted. A guy who needed others fawning over him in order to function, who thought he deserved it. He reveled in the attention. Sure, he was probably able to take care of himself to an extent, he would have to be if he caught Riddick the first time. But the problem with a Jonny was that they would do almost anything to keep that attention, and if it was taken away…well, then they became dangerous.

She'd known a guy like that in Secondary School…her junior year. He'd been a squall-ball player—big star shooter-back. Donny Calabryan. Thought he was the big man on campus, loved all the attention he got, would do anything to keep it. She hadn't been impressed by his type even then. Of course, that had rubbed him wrong and he'd gone out of his way to make sure she knew just what a great, big man he was.

She believed he was up for parole next year and kind of wondered if that testicular retrieval surgery had been successful.

"Sounds like a charmer," Shazza muttered, breaking the silence and drawing Lera's eyes back from the exit Johns had strutted through. Lera's couldn't help but smirk at the woman's tone. Dry, sarcastic, not overly frightened. Lera had met a few free settlers in her day and Shazza certainly seemed to fit the mold. Tough, rough, and hard to get the best of.

Lera watched as she pushed off the table and went outside with Zeke in tow…not before grabbing their choice of Paris' stash, however. She couldn't fight the sardonic smirk. Did these people actually think that these 'weapons' were going to help them against a seasoned killer like Riddick? Perhaps if they actually knew how to use them they might, but not in the hands of novices. Though, she supposed as Jack grabbed a much smaller, boomerang like tool, perhaps they would provide a sense of comfort. People tended to feel better if they thought there was something they could do about their situations. Lera might not be the nicest of people at times, but she generally preferred not to be cruel. She wasn't about to take that small peace of mind away from them.

After a few moments only she and Paris were left in the hold, the older man huffing out a breath and slumping down slightly. He looked frightened…and on the edge of something hysterical. She had to admire his aplomb, though. The man held up well behind his veil of refinement, dignity, and economic aloofness.

"Ah, Ms. Chase," he said, turning and noticing that he wasn't as alone as he must have thought. Interesting that they all seemed to forget about her from time to time. Then again, she was always good at not being noticed. "Ah, would, would you like one?" he offered her the assortment in his arms.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "No thanks, not sure I'd know how to use one of those."

"But still, you should have something…with a dangerous man like Riddick out there, a young lady such as yourself must have some sort of protection."

Lera fought an amused smile. He was trying so hard to be gallant and gentile even though it was clear his nerves were frayed.

"You're Terran born, aren't you?" she asked and Paris seemed to blink at the sudden change of subject.

"Why yes, yes I am. Suffix, England, actually."

"Hmm," she hummed, pushing away from the wall she'd been leaning against, "I would think one Terran born would know about the laws prohibiting the removal of such artifacts."

Paris blinked at her. "I…you must be mistaken, my dear. I am a legitimate arts and antiquities dealer…"

"You're a smuggler, Paris," she said evenly and saw the man pale slightly. "Funny, I would think a smuggler would know a con-job when he heard one."

The older, British man blinked at her. "What…what do you mean?"

"I mean that even legitimate dealers know how to couch a phrase to make their products seem more valuable." Paris blinked at her and Lera sighed. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder leveling her gaze on him as he gulped.

"Johns isn't just after Riddick," she said softly, "he's after the glory. Surely you, of all people, can spot an up-sale when you hear one."

"You…you mean you don't believe the things he said?" Paris asked, a touch of hope lighting his previously forlorn eyes.

"Some are probably true. He doesn't have any supplies so he'll probably try to get some in order to stay alive. The rest, though, complete and total marketing. My best advice, if he comes looking for something, give it to him or step aside."

"But what if he…"

"Where would be the profit?" she asked and a light of understanding hit the man's eyes. If a smuggler, of art or anything else, could understand anything it was profit. She could feel his muscles ease under her hand, which still rested on his shoulder. He gave her a slight nod and she smiled at him before heading outside herself, slipping on her sunglasses on the way.

She may have no desire to lead these people, no desire to be followed, but she wouldn't just sit by and let Johns rip them to shreds. There was no good in ripping them up the way Johns had. It would only make them tense and jumpy and that would only spell trouble. Trouble they couldn't afford.

She stepped out into the sunlight with a sigh, thinking about what she had been doing. So far she had gone out of her way to comfort an only half-decent pilot who had almost let them die, a convicted criminal she basically helped escape, and a gentleman smuggler posing as a legitimate dealer. She spied the pilot standing off to the side with her arms wrapped around herself, chewing on her lip and sighed as she headed over in the smaller woman's direction.

_Lera Chase, mother hen to the galacticly bent._

**ooOoo**

Carolyn sat perched on an outcropping of the ship, mulling over the last few hours. Six hours. Had it really only been six hours since they had crashed on this god forsaken piece of rock? It didn't seem possible, no matter what her chrono said. Just too much had happened. The crash, Owen, Riddick...

That was what worried her the most, the escaped convict. And the one thing she couldn't do a damn thing about. Who knew just what he had in mind for them, if he was even still in the area. Somehow she thought it was too much to hope that he had just left them all behind. No...she pushed the thought to the back of her head. One step at a time, that's what Lera had said...

_Carolyn huddled against a piece of the hull away from the others, arms wrapped tight around herself while she tried to keep the panic at bay. Too much, it was all just too much. She hadn't asked for this, couldn't handle it...too much. Their food stores were minimal, they wouldn't last a fortnight, if that. No water, save the hydro pills Chase had provided, and those wouldn't last long. They didn't even have a working communications array to send out a distress signal. How were they to survive on this desert of a world? No food, no water, no real shelter or way off... _

And everyone kept looking at her, looking at her like she was supposed to provide all the answers. She wasn't a leader, why did they expect that of her? How could they? She wouldn't be able to do it, she couldn't...too much...

A piece of shadow fell over her drawn in form and she glanced up, trying not to gasp. Tall, dark, silhouetted against the light all she could see was the strength, the danger, and the dark, dark clothing. For just a moment she thought that it might be Riddick and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, a scream strangled to silence in her parched throat. The form crouched down in front of where she was huddled, making Carolyn blink. No, not Riddick, a woman. Chase, Lera Chase.

"Hey," the woman's husky voice greeted her quietly. "How you holdin' up?"

Carolyn snorted. "How do you think?"

She shook her head at herself. It wouldn't do any good to unload herself on this woman, she was one of the ones looking to her...but was she? No, Carolyn realized as she looked into the woman's sunglass hidden face, this woman looked to no one to lead her. There was a confidence in her calm strength that Carolyn envied, a strength that wouldn't crumble in the face of all this, a strength that wouldn't find all of it to be too much. Maybe they should be following her.

"I think," the woman started slowly, "that everything is really starting to hit you. You've got the look of someone about to bolt" Carolyn clenched her jaw against a smart retort and waited as the woman took off her sunglasses, her face shielded from the light at her back. Carolyn found herself staring into calm, warm, light green eyes. For a moment she seemed lost in them, the comfort, the acceptance, the calm.

Carolyn bit her lip, trying not to shake. "I don't think I can do this, Lera…they, they all want me to do something, but I…I can't!"

"_You're going to have to," Lera said calmly and held up her hand when she started to protest. "You're the only crew member, that gives you an obvious authority. They're just as scared as you are and when people are scared they look to someone of authority to help them not be. You're the only one here."_

"_What about you?" she started desperately. "You could…"_

_But Lera shook her head. "Who am I? I'm just another crashed passenger. I've got no more authority than any of the others. They won't follow me, but they'll follow you."_

_Carolyn dropped her head, everything surging over her. How was she supposed to do this? They shouldn't look to her anyway, hell, she'd almost killed them all. On top of everything the guilt was gnawing at her, had been since they had landed._

_"Talk to me Carolyn," Lera said softly, making Carolyn look up at her. "They may not follow me, but you don't have to do this totally alone. But I can't help if you don't talk to me." _

"It's just...everything is...it's too much!" she hissed. Lera raised an auburn eyebrow at her in question. "There's so much that has to be done, so many things going on...I just..."

"You don't know where to start," Lera replied with an understanding nod. "Everything's swirling all around and you feel like your brain has been gridlocked."

Carolyn nodded, a strange sense of relief coming over her at how easily Lera seemed to understand. And yet, there was no judgment in her eyes, no condemnation. Just warm, non-judgmental support.

"When being confronted with a complex problem," Lera said calmly, coming to squat down next to where Carolyn was curled, slipping her sunglasses back on as she faced the suns, "I have found that it's always best to take things just one step at a time. Focus on one thing, one piece of the puzzle."

"But how?"

"Well, what's the most important one?"

"They all seem important."

"Okay," she said slowly, "so which one will most ensure our survival."

"Water," Carolyn said instantly. "We need water. Those pills won't last."

Lera smiled softly at her. "Agreed. Well, you've got a solution to that." She gestured over at where Emam had gathered with his boys. "From what I've heard they come from a desert region. If anyone here knows how to find water in the desert, it's them."

Carolyn nodded slowly, her mind slowing down and focusing on the water issue. "Yeah, Emam mentioned something like that."

"Well, then that's a first step," Lera said with a grin. "Once you start working on one problem, the rest don't seem so big."

"But what about Riddick?"

Lera raised an eyebrow at her. "What about him?" Carolyn's brow furrowed and Lera shook her head ever so slightly. "Don't worry over much about things you have no control over. Whatever he does, he'll do. There's no controlling that. Some things you just have to take as they come."

_Carolyn just stared at her a moment, brow knit in a mixture of awe and confusion at how she could be so damn calm. "How do you do it, Chase?" she asked finally. "It's like you know just what everyone needs to hear, how to approach things, and you're so calm you're almost freakin' detached."_

_The corner of Lera's mouth lifted it what looked like wry amusement. "Combination of a whole hell of a lot of life experience leading me into shitty places and a psychology degree."_

_Carolyn snorted. Well, that would explain some things. She closed her eyes and took in what Lera had said. It made sense, but more importantly, it made it easier. Slowly she opened her eyes._

_"One step at a time?" she repeated, a feeling a bit of hope as her mind started to come into focus. _

Lera smiled easily at her, leaning back against the hull with a nod. "One step at a time."

Carolyn couldn't help but marvel slightly at the woman. Probably she could lead these people to safety a hell of a lot better than Carolyn, but for some reason she seemed to feel no desire to. Instead she seemed to be a hidden force, the support in the shadows, the council everyone needed. She knew something had passed between her and Paris back in the hold, the man had come out looking a lot more confident than he had moments ago. She might not be leading them, but she was making it possible.

Carolyn shoved up off the ship and out of her thoughts, headed to short distance to where they were putting the final touches on the respirators. It was time.

"El-Emam," she called out, "if we're going to look for water we should leave soon, while it's cool."

The man nodded and set to get his boys ready. Lera had been right when she'd said there was a solution to their problem within their own group. Carolyn had been so overwhelmed that she had forgotten. Emam and his boys were from a more desert colony of Al Feruqe, one of the older colonies closer to Old Earth that was favored by those of Arabic and Islamic decent. The planet was mostly desert, like this one seemed to be, and had been settled by desert people when it had first been founded. They knew how to find water, they had been doing it all their lives.

Once that had been settled, things seemed so much easier. They had set out and turned to the tasks necessary for the exploration to be made. Namely, the respirators. The whole group had started gathering the bits and pieces necessary to put the contraptions together and then once they were gathered Shazza and Zeke had gotten to work making them. Johns kept scanning the surrounding area looking for signs of Riddick, though Carolyn couldn't help but find it strange that he never seemed to wander too far from the group. Hell, the farthest he'd really gone was to the top of the ship. Shouldn't he be more concerned with tracking his prisoner down?

Carolyn was about to turn to the others to tell those that were going to put the final preps on when Paris ran up.

"Excuse me," he panted, slightly out of breath, "but I think you should see this."

**ooOoo**

Lera stood with her arms crossed and feet slightly apart, a slightly disgruntled look on her face as she stared at the most recent unwelcome turn of events. She'd been talking with Paris about various antiques, or rather he'd been talking and she'd been surveying the area, when their new visitor made an appearance. Paris had run off to inform the others and she had stayed to stare at it affronted.

Her head turned slightly to the side as she heard the rest of the group round the ship. Man, but they were noisy. No wonder they hadn't encountered anything else out here. If there was, in fact, anything alive on this rock it probably would have been scared off by the cacophony. She barely acknowledged them as she continued to glare towards the horizon.

"Three suns?" she heard Jack say in shocked amazement. Funny, there was something to his voice that caught her attention. Something that didn't quite mesh and niggled at her brain, but for the moment she shrugged it off.

"Bloody hell," Shazza drawled and Lera couldn't help but snort. No shit.

Lera was by nature a night person. Always had been. There was just something so soothing about the starry night sky. During her childhood the only time she had ever really found a smidgen of true peace was when she could sit on her window ledge and stare at the quiet stars. For some reason they had always made her feel better, like if there was something so beautiful out there as stars then life couldn't all be bad. She didn't mind the day, but night was where she had always thrived. Looked like she wasn't going to get her nightly reprieve stuck on this rock.

Other than her own, personal distaste for the endless day, three suns presented another problem. One of which she was keenly aware. Dehydration. It probably wouldn't have been most people's first thought, but Lera hadn't been 'most people' for a long time now. She knew what dehydration could do to a body, especially at the rate the dry, acrid air was sucking the moisture out of them. At first they would just have cotton mouth, but then it would get worse. Head aches, irritability, loss of impulse control. Then it would start to effect the brain. Delusions, dementia, loss of motor control. Finally, after a long and torturous process…death. She'd seen men die of dehydration before and it wasn't pretty. You didn't just die of thirst, oh no, you husked.

They needed to find another source of hydration, and soon. Her pills would last half the time if they were to maintain proper hydration. They could stretch them a little bit, but not much. Eventually they'd all dry up and blow away like so much dust.

"So much for your nightfall," Zeke said bitterly.

"So much for my cocktail hour." Lera had to smirk slightly at Paris' response. At least the man was keeping his humor.

"We take this as a good sign." Lera turned to see Emam walking up to them with an arm around one of his boys. Lera had stopped trying to sort them out about three hours ago. She quirked an eyebrow at the older Islamic priest wondering just how in the world he could be grinning at this.

"A path from Allah," the man continued. "Blue sun, blue water."

Zeke snorted. "Ever wonder why I'm an atheist?" Lera couldn't help it, she kind of liked the surly settler. He was cynical and rough, definitely not one to look on the bright side, but there was something vaguely endearing about him. Kind of like a mangy alley cat.

"It's a bit of a bad sign," Johns said, approaching from where he'd been perched on top of the ship, scanning the area fruitlessly for signs of Riddick. "That's Riddick's direction."

Carolyn's brow furrowed. "I thought you found his restraints over there, towards sunset."

"Right, which means he went towards sunrise."

_Huh_, Lera huffed mentally, _so the straw head has a brain after all. And here I thought it was all pins and needles pretending to be sharp._

"Zeke," Johns went on, walking over to where the two free settlers were staring at the smaller, blue sun. He pulled out a gun from behind his pants and gave it to him. "Fully loaded clip. Safety's on. One shot if you spot him, okay?"

"Don't tell me you're going off too," Zeke nearly whined.

Paris, who never seemed to completely loose his nervous look no matter how hard he tried, licked his lips. "What happens if Mr. Riddick sports us first?"

Lera's eyes narrowed at the arrogant, slightly oily smirk that Johns directed at the older man. He seemed to take a delight in making the art dealer/smuggler shake. "There'll be no shots."

Her eyes narrowed further as he started to swagger away, seemingly proud of the unease he was leaving behind him. Damn it, they were all looking nervous again. The last thing they needed was for everyone to be spooked and jumpy, especially if they were going to be handing out weapons. It was painfully obvious that none of them knew the first thing about what to do with them, and that was a dangerous thing to combine with fear and nerves. That was how friends got shot and people lost their own toes.

"Well," she said in a purposely light tone, "at least we know what took us down now."

She saw everyone turn at her with confused and still slightly dazed expressions. Even Johns stopped in his swagger to look at her with a furrowed brow. That she could have done without. He had basically been ignoring her after the first leer right after the crash. She would have preferred to keep it that way, but right now they needed to be distracted before they went insane with depression and paranoia.

"What do you mean?" Carolyn asked.

"Binary systems are moderately rare," Lera explained, "but tri-solar ones…do you remember any mention of one along the flight path?"

Carolyn blinked at her for a moment before her brows shot up. "Yeah. You're right, it was odd. About twenty light years off the shipping track."

"Oh, great," Zeke sneered. "Not only are we off course but now we're so out of the lanes no one will ever find us."

"No," Carolyn said, excitement in her voice as she turned to him, "it's a good thing. It means it must have been a rouge comet."

"What do you mean?" Shazza asked, dark brows drawn almost together.

"The shipping tacks are set to compensate for gravitational forces of the surrounding systems," the pilot explained. "But if a comet was large enough and passed close enough it's own gravitational field would upset that, kind of making a furrow in the fields. If a ship were to pass close enough to that it would kind of 'fall in' to that furrow, being pulled off course. It's why the Company tracks comets so closely and why the shipping lanes are programmed not to intersect their paths."

"And interesting lesson in the astrophysics of space travel, to be sure," Paris interjected, "but I fail to see how this helps our situation."

"It means we'll be found easier," Lera said, making the others blink. "Any ship out looking for us will be running fully awake and nose open. They'll pick up on something like that, since the effects will be felt for some time. Felt, and traceable. They can follow the trail right to us."

"But we weren't even set to put down for another nineteen. No one will notice we're missing til then," Zeke pointed out.

"Not true," Carolyn shook her head, flashing Lera an excited and hopeful look. "Company ships are programmed to sent out a signal at designated times so that they can be tracked in case they get in trouble. Our communications array was ripped off on re-entry, so even if the system was still working the signal wouldn't send. It's programmed to send out twice a day. A ship doesn't send once, they try to contact it. Twice and they send a searcher out. Even if the comet most likely messed with the report of our position, as soon as they stop getting that signal and don't get a response they'll send people looking."

"So in eighteen weeks we might be rescued," Shazza concluded as the initial excitement began to wane.

Lera snorted. Did these people know nothing about ships? "A lot soon than that would be my guess," she said. "No offense, Carolyn, but the Hunter-Grazner is hardly the best or fastest ship the Company owns. It's meant for haul, not speed. If they're gonna send out a search they'll send out something much faster. Probably a Slider Class Star Skimmer, would be my guess."

"How the hell do you know all this, Chase?" Johns drawled out. Lera turned to find the merc looking at her through narrowed eyes. She gave him a bored expression, stifling the smirk at his annoyed gaze. He was obviously less than please that his carefully crafted fear had been lessened by 'good news'.

"Because I paid attention in my astrophysics and commerce classes in Secondary," she drawled back at him, more than a little satisfied with the way his mouth tightened at her allusions to his intelligence.

"And I'm sure we're all quite glad you did," Paris interjected. "This is most welcome news."

Johns snorted. "Won't mean nothin' if we're not alive when they get here."

"Agreed," Lera replied. "So perhaps you should finish getting ready to leave."

"I was talking about Riddick."

"And I was ignoring it."

"You shouldn't. He takes one look at your sweet ass and you'll be the first one he takes. Convict don't get a lot of chance to spend time with the ladies."

Her eyes narrowed behind her dark sunglasses but otherwise she didn't react to his implications. The others did, though. Carolyn's eyes went wide and Shazza and Jack started to look around nervously. Huh, why was Jack…

"Don't worry your pretty little self too much, though," Johns leered at her in what she supposed he thought a charming manner, interrupting her train of thought. "You just stick close to me."

Lera fought the combination lip curl and eye roll as he patted the gage strapped to his thigh. Yeesh, talk about extension.

"Knock it off," Carolyn interrupted the leering stare-down. "Everyone who's going get ready. We leave towards sunrise in twenty minutes."

Lera watched Johns give her one last sneer before heading off to order his things for the expedition. Her skin gave an involuntary crawl. She would have to keep a closer eye on him, especially now that she'd managed to catch his attention, it seemed. That was one merc she definitely did not trust.

**ooOoo**

Jack walked up to where Lera was quietly putting a few supplies into a smaller pack, obviously getting ready to head out and bit her lip. It looked like most of them were going. She had to admit, she was more than a little scared, even if she would never let the others see it. She hadn't been on her own for too long, but she had learned early on that you didn't show fear, not if you wanted to be left alone. If you were left alone you stayed safe. It was part of the reason for her whole masquerade as a boy. People tended to leave guys alone much more than girls.

Still, she wasn't comfortable with all of them leaving with just a few of them to remain. Jack had wanted to go too, but had been voted down, it deemed better that she stay at the ship where it was less dangerous. She wasn't entirely sure why, but Lera's decision to go with the expedition party made her even more nervous. There was something about the woman that drew Jack to her. Something that made her feel safe. Maybe it was the way she seemed to be looking out for everyone. Maybe it was the way she had stood up to Johns when he was being a bully. The others didn't seem to realize it, but Jack had known far to many bullies not to be able to spot them on site. Apparently Lera did too. It made her feel like maybe the woman was someone she could trust, which made her leaving make Jack that much more nervous.

"So," she started a little nervously, wincing at how high her voice sounded before instantly lowering, "you really goin' too?"

Lera looked up at her from where she was crouched down, her gaze friendly and open, uncovered from her sunglasses in the shade of the ship. They were interesting eyes, you didn't see much green where Jack was from. Especially not that light, new-leaf color. But there was something sharply intelligent in them, something she wasn't sure the rest of them had noticed. Jack got the sudden, but interestingly unsurprising, feeling that there wasn't much that Lera missed.

"Yep," Lera said lightly. "Figure it's best."

"Ain't you worried?" she asked nervously, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

"Not really," Lera said calmly, then looked at Jack thoughtfully. "What's eatin' you kiddo?"

Jack blinked. Usually she didn't like being called a kid, most times she took offense or bit back. But there was something in the way Lera said it that didn't seem bad. Almost like an endearment. Jack looked down at her feet.

"Almost everyone's goin' to look for water or something. What if…what if Riddick…"

Lera tipped her head to the side, her expression thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. "You're afraid Riddick's going to come back," said, making it a statement instead of a question. Jack nodded anyway and Lera smiled softly at her.

"Don't worry so much," Lera said softly, comfortingly. "And don't believe everything Johns says. I've heard of Riddick before and if there's one thing I've never heard of him doing it's hurting a child."

"I'm not a child," Jack responded instantly, puffing up a bit to try and look older. Lera grinned at her.

"No, perhaps not. But you're young enough that a man like him wouldn't see you as a threat. This case, that's no bad thing. Besides," she said off hand, "chances are he'll follow us. I've got most of the supplies he'd be interested in, and I'll bet you anything he's just as interested as we are in finding water. That's why it's best I go. Keep him away from our main shelter, keep him moving and busy. If he does have any intentions towards mischief I'd rather have his eyes somewhere else…but I doubt he'll do anything. He's too smart for that."

Jack nodded to herself as she thought about that. It made sense, she supposed, and actually made her feel a little better. She watched as Lera finished transferring the supplies to her smaller pack and strap it crossways on her back. She wondered briefly where Lera had gotten it. It was black, like the rest of her clothes, though she'd discarded the jacket, and conformed to her body so it didn't hinder movement, one strap snaking diagonally across her front. Huh, there were other straps and pockets on the main strap…_wonder what those are for?_

Jack bit her lip again, thinking about what Lera said. It really probably was best that she went along. If she was right, the Riddick would probably focus on her, which meant, as much as Jack disliked the notion, that she should probably stick close to Johns. He had the most weapons and would be the best person to protect her. But…Jack still didn't particularly want her to go. There was just something calming about her, something to the way she seemed to be handling all this that made Jack feel safer, more secure. Even though she didn't believe Johns' bull about the con being more…physically…interested, the thought that Riddick might hurt her…

"Here," Jack said, making Lera look back up at the weapon Jack held out. She'd noticed Lera hadn't taken anything from the stash, she should have something if she was going to put herself in so much danger.

Lera blinked at it for a moment and then smiled warmly at her. "I appreciate the offer but…"

"Take it. You should have something."

Lera looked around them for a moment and Jack followed her gaze. Everyone was getting ready to either depart or start working on their shelter. Those that weren't going were going to start repairing what they could of the ship. There was a chance they could be stuck here for some time and they wanted to make sure they at least had some place livable. No one was looking at them.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Jack," Lera said in a conspiratorial tone that had Jack leaning in. Instead of saying anything, though, Lera reached back into her main bag and pulled out two knives. They were dangerous looking, one long and thin that she put in her almost knee-high boot, and the other wider, a strange matt-black, with a wicked looking curve that went into her belt and damn near disappeared. Jack's eyes widened as she reached into the bag again and came back out with a pulse-gun, checking it quickly before stashing it at her back underneath the bag but where she could get to it easily. She took out a couple of pulse cells next and slid them into the little pockets on the front strap of her bag.

_So that's what those are for…_

Jack looked back up at Lera with wide eyes. Lera flashed her a grin and winked before zipping up her bigger bag and handing it to Jack. "Keep an eye on this for me, would you?"

Jack took the bag numbly, still staring wide-eyed at the woman in front of her. "How…why…what are you?"

Lera cocked an eyebrow at her. "Unusual," she said with amusement tingeing her voice, chuckling slightly in her chest. "Life lesson for you, Jack. If you're going to travel alone it's best to expect trouble. Even if nothing happens then at least you're prepared. Because the moment you're not is when Murphy comes around to bite you in the butt."

Even Jack had to laugh at that. Lera winked at her before standing and slipping on a pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses. Jack looked up at the taller woman as she put a hand on her shoulder.

"Zeke's gonna be on grave duty," she said, "so stick close to Shazza. She may not look like much, and kind of girly with those pearls, but free settlers are tough. I have no doubt she can handle herself. And you can learn a few things, I'm sure. Never pass up an opportunity to learn something new, you never know when it'll come in handy. That's another lesson."

"You know," Jack quipped, as they turned to rejoin the others, "part of the reason I ran away was because of school."

Lera shot her a half-grin and bumped her with her shoulder as they walked before wrapping an arm around them. "Punk." She shook her head and chuckled. "Yeah, you'll do all right."

Jack grinned at the compliment, watching Lera move to join the others headed out. Unusual or not, Jack couldn't help but feel better with her around.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's the next chapter folks! Don't worry, Riddick will make a reappearence it the next one. I'm going via the movie here and I'm sure you'll all recall he doesn't have the biggest 'present' role in the beginning. No worries, though, he'll have a bigger one in mine. And please, don't for get to REVIEW. Reviews help to inspire me. And make me feel guilty. The more reviews I get the guiltier I feel for not being ready to update and the more inspired I am to do so. Ah, negitive reinforcement...or is it positive punishment...isn't pschology grand? 

**Reviewer Response:**

**bima:** Lera definately has a brass set of her own, that's for sure. And frankly, who wouldn't want to lick those lips? Anyone else getting the feeling that Lera's a bit left of center? And yeah, I love that quote about sexually frustrating a killer too. It was just fun.

**FitMama**: I don't even know where the 'pill proff' notion came from. It just kind of appeared on the page. I love it too, and she is definately one to keep a guy like Riddick off balance. You'll learn more about her, but slowly...I've already given a lot of hints in the way she thinks and some of the things she says, but I'm not sure a lot of people are going to get it. We'll see in the end, I suppose...

**Mordecay:** I'm glad you're liking it. I agree with you about Riddick, he never seems to kill just for the heck of it. I like being able to examine that avenue a bit more. Though I've never heard the other theory...I'm thinking it's more that it's how he known to survive. And frankly, when the people coming after you are more than willing to ghost you...you better ghost them first.

**bree3354**: I love Lera. I wish I was her. I wish I got to lick those lips. And yes, they do have some similarities and while I don't particurally want to give a lot away, I will say this...Lera was never in Butcher Bay.

**ListenNatalie:** Thanks! Yeah, the smelling...god, when he does that to Carolyn in the movie in the skiff...I just have to bite my lip. I knew a guy who did that...still makes me shiver.

**Pixievamp**: I'm glad you like, I'm having fun with it. I don't think I'm going to be chaning a lot of plot points, and definately not the major ones. I am going to be adding a bit though, and going into the characters more. That's one of the big things for me, character development. I hope you like where it winds up!

**KaneSexyMrJacobs**: Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying my little fic. And don't worry, there will deffinately be more Lera/Riddick interactions. (Grin)

**DeerInTheHeadlights**: Thank you for your compliments, it makes me feel much better about this. The whole 'cut and dry' thing is one of the reasons I wanted to do this. Pitch Black is just such a character movie to me...the plot seems more of a vehicle for exploring them. I just had to delve more into that. I hope you enjoy the rest of it as it unfolds.


	5. Unwelcome Surprises

**AN:** Ahh, another belated installment of ANT. Granted, all my installments tend to be rather belated...sorry. Anyway, I know it's been a while, but I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pitch Black or anything connected to it. The only one I own is Lera. Though I certainly wouldn't mind borrowing Riddick for a while. The question is...would I give him back? Heh heh heh.

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**Pitch Black: A New Twist**

**Unwelcome Surprises **

Moving as silently as a shadow, Riddick crept along just below the ridgeline, paralleling the exploration group that had set out from the crash site. He had been following them for a good hour now and as yet all they had found on this little excursion was dust, dirt, and rocks. He supposed he could have stayed and watched the crash site and the few that had remained, in fact it might have been wiser to do so. After all, he would have more of a chance to get at whatever supplies were there with the numbers so decreased. There were three things that had made the decision for him.

The first and foremost was water. He knew there wasn't any water at the crash, just the hydro pills of Lera's, and she was with _this_ group. He planned to stay close to the only ready source there was because he knew that as time passed hydration would become more and more necessary. Especially with the revelation of this world's third sun. Fucking planet. He had been planning on there being a night. Night was where he thrived, where he lived, where he didn't have to hide his eyes away. It was where he was the one eyed man in the land of the blind. It would have been easy to raid the party at night when they were weak and he was strong. He wouldn't have had to worry about finding a source of water, he could have just taken theirs. But with this perpetual day things had changed.

The second reason was apparently taking point in the group. William Johns...merc, devil, and down right thorn in Riddick's side. He couldn't afford to let the man out of his sights for too long without having to worry about the bastard sneaking up his ass. Johns may not be the brightest star in the sky, but he was relentless and fucking ruthless. There was no telling just what lengths he'd go to in order to get Riddick back, and frankly, he had enough on his conscience.

The last reason was perhaps the simplest and really the deciding factor. He was bored. Bored as all fucking hell. Richard B. Riddick had never done well with being bored. It was one of the things that had gotten him in trouble. A bored Riddick is a disgruntled Riddick. And a disgruntled Riddick didn't tend to make anyone happy. He liked to be doing something, anything, not just sitting around on his ass in the sand waiting for something to happen. If he was going to be doing that there had damn well better be some scantily clad women frolicking in some water near by.

He watched the group with mild interest as they made their way through the gulley below. They were a strange mix, that was for sure. Johns was taking the lead, strutting along like a big, bad hunter man. Riddick snorted. While even Riddick had to admit the man had some skills, for the most part Johns was a fucking joke. Guy thought he was a big bad, a tough ass bastard that could rumble with the big boys. But the fact of the matter was that he had never really seen the big boys. Mostly he brought in broke-back cons. The big boys would crush Johns into jelly and eat him on toast.

That was probably what bothered him the most about Johns, just how stuck on himself he was. The man didn't ever think 'bout nothing but himself and what he wanted. Didn't give a fuck about what he had to do to get it, either. Something stood in his way, he took it out. Riddick knew that Johns hadn't been the only merc on his neck…nor was he insanely surprised when the others had, well, disappeared. If he'd had more brains, the guy could have been a mogul in the business world, he was that ruthless. If he didn't have the fake badge to hide behind, he would have been Slammed long ago for the shit he pulled.

Riddick had to admit that there was a small part of him that vaguely admired Johns' tenacity. The rest of him generally had to fight of a metaphorical gag. The fact of the matter was, as nasty as Riddick could be himself, the universe would be a lot better place without someone like Johns in it. Maybe he'd just have to do the universe a favor.

Riddick's eyes started drifting to the other members of the exploration party, taking them in and examining them for later use. One thing he'd learned, it was always better to know what you were up against.

The pilot was there, of course. Now _her_ he could deal with. Carolyn Fry. She was a little thing, and definitely not hard to look at, but he was betting that when backed into a corner she could be fucking fierce. It was obvious she kept herself in shape, but if you spent any amount of your life flitting around space you sure as hell better be. Most cargo crews were decent enough in a fight…at least a bar fight. They were kind of a rough and tumble bunch of spacers, though generally harmless for the most part. Still, wasn't a one of them that hadn't spent time in the dock-bars and the questionable society inside.

Something told him, though, that she never went there alone. There was something kinda jumpy about her. Maybe it was the crash, maybe she was just a little skittish by nature, but she didn't seem to be the strongest of the lot. The others seemed to be following her, sure, but the way she held herself, the slight inward hunch of her shoulders…this was a woman with insecurities. Riddick let a grin steal over his features. Insecurities he could work with.

The Arabs were there too. Not shocking. Of the lot of them, they were the most likely to actually find water in a desert. He was a little surprised that the Holy Man had brought his four boys with him, but then again, chances were they knew just as much about finding water as he did. Besides, what kind of Shepard would he be if he wasn't tending his flock? Holy Men weren't ever hard to figure out, but they could be a damned nuisance. Always tellin' you to repent, mend your ways and shit. His ways kept him alive, only thing that needed mending was the getting caught part. That he could do without.

It was the last member of the group that really caught his attention. Bringing up the rear was another woman. She wasn't the free settler, wasn't dressed right. Her clothes were so dark, they had to be black, and seemed simple enough in design. No leather or tool belt or any of that shit Free Settlers tended to carry with them everywhere. Instead, she wore a tight tank-top that showed just what a tasty body was beneath it. Her pants seemed to be cargos of some sort and her boots were definitely made for rough treatment. It was strange, though, even though they were probably the most appropriate clothes of the lot for this kind of shit, they looked nice enough not to draw attention no matter whether she was wandering in a desert or walkin' around a city. And she was carrying a pack on her back that seemed made to move with her, definitely appropriate for this kind of thing. Huh, it almost seemed like she had come prepared to be here.

She was tall, probably a couple inches shy of his own six-two, she had medium length curly hair she kept pulled up in a high pony tail. He couldn't tell regular colors ever since he got the shine job, but he'd managed to figure a good portion of what was what by taking what he knew before and how they appeared to him now. He was guessing her hair was red from the way it showed through the shine, and her skin was obviously pale. Couldn't see her eyes cause of the distance, but then again, with the dark, wrap-around shades she was wearing he wouldn't have been able to anyway. Funny, she was the only one besides himself that was doing anything to protect her eyes from the light. Maybe she was just the only one that had shades with her, but at least she was smart enough to use them. Even though it wasn't much of a question for him anymore, he knew that over-long exposure to light could do unhappy things to eyes.

Lera Chase. It had to be her, there really wasn't another option. He focused most of his attention on her now that he had the chance, keeping the others more on the periphery of his focus. The notion of the woman had bothered him since he'd caught her scent in the ship. It had been a surprise, and Riddick wan not fond of surprises. She'd confused him further in the cargo hold but he hadn't exactly been able to do any kind of examination while bound and blindfolded. Now…he almost wished he couldn't.

Not good. That was really what it came down to. The first clue was the way she moved. First there had been the silent feet in the cargo hold. Now…there was a grace to her movements that he could only associate with two types of people—dancers and killers. Not just your average, blustering, I'm-tough-shit kind of killer, either, but one that actually knew what they were doing. It was it the quiet way she moved, how she held herself, the way her feet failed to make noise as she walked over the packed sand and gravel. There was a danger about it that was subtle and ambiguous, making it impossible to determine what kind of threat she might pose…if she posed any at all. After all, dancers do that too.

Somehow, he wasn't buying the whole dancing thing.

What really crashed the notion of the prima ballerina was the fact that she wasn't just walking, she was aware. While Johns was oh-so-obviously sweeping the surrounding area in an effort it looked more appropriate in some kind of Vid-show, Chase was doing the same thing and not being obvious about it. As she walked her head drifted ever so slightly from side to side, up and down, and back behind her. It was never very much movement, just enough to catch the full 360 degrees through the periphery. Despite the dangers that resided everywhere in the Universe, especially in his asshole end of it, there were very few people who were actually decent at that kind of awareness.

To top it all off, he was pretty sure she was armed. And he couldn't tell with what. There was just a certain kind of air someone had when they were carrying a weapon. Usually he could spot where and what they were carrying, but with her, he couldn't. And that made him nervous. It was becoming very obvious that this woman had training of some kind. Though whether government, law enforcement, private, or just the life experience of surviving hell like he had…he couldn't tell.

Definitely not good.

Out of everyone here she was building up to be the biggest potential threat to his freedom. Then again…

His mind drifted back to the cargo hold. He couldn't help but remember that she had gone out of her way to take care of him; make sure he wasn't wounded, treat anything that was wrong, and he knew for damn sure he was the first one to get one of those precious hydro pills. Why the hell would she have done that? He still couldn't figure it out, it just did not fit with anything he knew. He was pretty sure she had been warned about him by then, he'd heard Johns warning them off before Carolyn had come up to him. She knew who he was. She knew what he'd done. Well, at least as much as any of the others. And she'd still…

It was almost like she had been affronted with the way he was chained up like that. And it was obvious that she didn't like mercs any more than he did. Hell, she'd even massaged his shoulders loose for him. If she hadn't done that he might not have been able to pull that trick to get out.

Riddick blinked as a thought struck him. Had she meant to do that? She had to have known that the cutting torch was right there in reach. And pulling back that little bit of cloth so he could see…His eyes narrowed as he watched her. It couldn't be. It just didn't make any kind of sense. Especially not with the obvious training that she had. Hell, even if it turned out she was a criminal like himself it wouldn't have made sense. No one in his world would put themselves at risk like that by doing anything to help him get free. So why the fuck would she?

As if she knew he was thinking about her, at that exact moment Lera drew to a stop. Riddick froze as her muscles stiffened ever so slightly before relaxing as she turned her head in his direction…to look Right At Him. Barely a sliver of him was showing over the rise, just enough to see, but her eyes targeted right to his. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe he had gotten careless and she'd heard something, maybe…She smirked. Riddick scowled. She was smirking at him? He watched as she lowered her shades ever so slightly and though he couldn't see all that much at this distance, he got the distinct feeling that she had just winked at him.

In a flash, Riddick was moving away, driven by the need to be gone, out of her inspection. How the hell had she noticed him? Had she known the whole time? Or had she just figured he'd follow them and thus was more alert to any slips? Whatever it was, he didn't like it. It was officially the first time he had been made in years.

He cursed as he heard a couple of the pebbles be displaced by his sudden, disturbed departure.

_Nice move Riddick. Why don't you just shout out a good evening while you're at it._

The worst part was, he was pretty sure she was still smirking.

**ooOoo**

Lera allowed herself the smirk as she slipped her sunglasses back up her face, listening to Johns yell at everyone to be quite. Really, now didn't that defeat the purpose? She knew why he'd done it though, he'd finally caught on to the fact that they weren't alone as the pebbles Riddick had loosened in his hasty retreat skittered down the hillside. Brilliant observation, that. Too bad he was too late.

Until this point Lera had been strolling along at the back of the group as they wound their way through the barren country side. She had taken up a position at the back of the group for a purpose. After all, with Johns and his gauge at the front the easiest way to start picking people off would be from the back. And it wasn't like this group was entirely skilled at defense. She'd expected Riddick to follow them and she'd been watching. It hadn't been too long after they'd set out that she'd caught a glimpse of him and proven herself right. If he was going to come after them for something, most likely he'd come after her, and she didn't want him to have to go through all the others to reach her.

Not that she didn't believe the things she'd told Jack and the others. Everything she knew about Riddick pointed to him being too smart for a direct confrontation. But if there was ever a time it would have been then, when they were spread out through this narrow gulch like so many lemmings in a line. And while she doubted that he was really the skull fucking evil bastard that Johns had made him out to be Lera had never been one not to cover her bases. She didn't like eventualities and generally did her best to minimize their effect.

That's what the whole wink had been about. Sure, it had been fun to burst his bubble, knock him off his peg, but there had been a message in there as well. A message only a man like him would get. It was a show of strength, a lack of fear, a claiming of territory from one predator to another. She knew he'd be wondering about her by this point. There things that she just couldn't hide from someone like him. They were things that most people wouldn't pick up on, unless picking up on that kind of thing tended to ensure your continued survival. By letting him know she knew he was there she'd effectively confirmed his suspicions without telling him anything…other than that he'd better be careful.

And frankly, she'd rather have him be more cautious around them than cocky. She had enough of that to deal with from Johns.

Lera strolled up to where the others were, her lips twitching in vague amusement as she passed the four boys throws rocks at the hill as though to chase Riddick off. The wrong hill.

She reached the two remaining adults just as the Holy man took Carolyn's pick from her limp looking fingers.

"We are all on the same Hajj now," he said as he left the pilot standing there. Lera's lips twitched again in wry amusement. She couldn't quite remember if Allah was supposed to be a merciful god or not. If He really was the one leading this parade, though, apparently he'd chosen the scenic route.

"You believe in God, Lera?" Carolyn asked in a quiet voice before trying to swallow the dust in her throat.

Lera quirked an eyebrow at her. She always found it interesting just how bad situations could bring out the faith in people. Things turn to shit and you're either cursing the deity of your choice, or asking them for help. She'd done it herself more than once.

"Sure," she shrugged, "though I couldn't name any specifically. Most of my prayers start out with 'Hey You'."

Carolyn snorted and her lips seemed to quiver. Lera fought a sigh. The woman seemed shaken again. It certainly didn't seem to take much. Sure, the situation was enough to rattle anyone, no matter their background, but frankly Lera was getting a little tired of playing comforter. And here she had thought her babysitting days were long over. She never had been that good with children.

"It must be nice," the pilot continued, looking after Emam, "to have that kind of unshakeable faith."

Lera shook her head. "No faith is unshakeable, Carolyn, no matter how strong. Something always happens to make you question something. The real question is, what do you do when that something happens? Do you let it shake the faith out of you, or do you ride the wave and see where it goes? Emam strikes me as the riding sort, that's why he seems to strong in all this. Never did the Allah thing, myself, but I gotta say…he's got a nice singing voice."

Carolyn blinked and snorted before a grin spread over her features. "I'm gonna go catch up with Johns," she said. "Best we don't get too separated out here."

Lera nodded and watched the woman walk away, a little more surety in her step. This was getting old. Not just the near constant comforting, reassuring, and hand holding she found herself doing, but the whole friggin' mess. For all she said, Lera wasn't exactly one to sit back and ride along, just waiting to see where she wound up. She'd rather be driving the bus. So why did she feel like she was sitting in the back of the short one this time?

Turning to glance over her shoulder at the boys still lingering back there she gave a short, sharp whistle through her teeth, making them jump and turn to her.

"Come on, boys," she said, motioning them to keep going since she was pretty sure they couldn't understand a word of what she was saying, "Don't want the devil to get too far ahead."

**ooOoo**

Jack crouched on the deck, trying to move as soundlessly as possible. So far she'd escaped the notice of her prey and she was rather proud of that. Granted, a Serrian Tusk Beast could probably have snuck up the Englishman but it was still an accomplishment in her book. And she figured she'd need as much practice as possible.

Just after the others had left Shazza had told her to get some rest while she looked around for the different things they'd need to start working on the hull. Probably the woman figured Jack needed a nap or something, since she was still just a kid to these people. Not that she wasn't a little tired, but Jack was used to little rest even when it was available. Rest had always been a luxury in her life, even before she ran away.

While she knew to take the reprieve while it was there, Jack had never been one to be idle. Couldn't be when you were all you had to take care of you. It had always been that way for her for as long as she could remember. Maybe there was a time before her parents died and her uncle took her in, but she'd been little then and whatever memories of ease had been there had long since been erased by misery and toil.

So while Shazza thought she was all tucked in somewhere Jack had done some searching of her own. Some of the computers on what was left of the ship were still working and Jack had decided to keep herself occupied in the non-labor intensive task of research. And her search had been very specific. Riddick.

Lera's words about the convict had stuck with her and peaked her curiosity. _'Never hurt a child'_. For some reason that had struck her as odd, especially considering everything Johns had been saying about his prisoner. They way Johns made it sound, Riddick was the epitome of evil, Satan personified. Why would someone like that never hurt a kid? You would think it wouldn't matter to them. Hell, it hadn't mattered to her uncle and he was generally seen as an upstanding member of the community. Jack had seen the news vids, and they all said Riddick was a sociopathic killer capable of anything. It made her wonder…

She'd managed to access what was there in the stores of news that had been constantly piped to the ship while in transit…before the communications relay melted off, that is. Turned out they had had a fair number of articles. She'd gone through all of them, and sure as shit, not once was Riddick accused of hurting a kid. In fact, most of the incidence she read about where someone died it almost seemed like self defense. The others were so grossly improbable that it was ludicrous. She'd looked deeper to see what she could find and managed to pull up his record. After all, as much press as Riddick had gotten, it was pretty much public record.

There were two big conclusions that she had come to. One, Riddick was very good at killing if the body count attributed to him was even close to being correct. And two…he was a survivor. Anyone that could survive five different Slams in their life and escape from all of them was definitely someone not to be messed with.

And that's what Jack wanted, not to be messed with. Her entire frickin' life that's all she'd known. Her uncle messed with her, the kids at school messed with her, freakin' _Fate_ messed with her on a daily basis. More than once she'd wished for a way to just get people, life, everything to just _stop_.

No one messed with Riddick.

And that's what had started her little hunt. If she could be more like him, have those kind of skills, that kind of badness to her ass, maybe everything would just leave her alone.

"You comfy up there?" she heard Zeke shout from somewhere down below. She almost jumped, not expecting the noise, and was rather proud that she didn't. Granted, she shouldn't have been surprised in the first place. _Gotta work on that…_she mused to herself. _Maybe I could ask Lera for lessons or something. Not much she seems to miss._

"Yes, well it's amazing how you can do without the necessities of life, provided you have the little luxuries," Paris quipped back, rolling a fat cigar between his fingers. Jack tried not to gag at the odor. She always hated the things. Her uncle smoked cigars, not nearly as nice as the Brit had, but there were days she thought she would choke on that smell. Cigars never made her think of happy things.

"Well, just keep your bloody eyes open. I don't want that dog sneaking up my bloody ass."

Jack smirked as she crept closer to the oblivious man. If Paris' eyes were the only thing they had between them and Riddick then they better hope to hell that Lera was right about him. She was less than five feet away from him and the man had yet to even notice her.

"Yes, well, you dig the graves. I'll hold the fort old bo—aaaa! Christ!" Jack grinned to herself at the sound of the man's exclamation, holding her boomerang-like weapon to his throat, a slightly foreign but welcome feeling of success pooling in her stomach. Maybe she could do this after all.

"Probably get you right here," she said, doing her best imitation of scary, "right under the jaw and you'd never even hear him coming, cause that's how good Riddick is." And he was. She'd read all the reports. More than one kill attributed to him had him killing without anyone seeing him coming. One paper had coined him as The Shadow of Death, because that's how quiet he was supposed to be.

"Tell me something," Paris forced out of his clenched teeth, "did you run away from your parents or did they run away from you?"

And there went the happy feelings of success. Jack ripped away the blade and stalked off. Apparently not as intimidating as she'd thought. And of all the things for him to say…

**ooOoo**

Lera stared down at the massive bones below them, her mouth set in a grim line, as the other speculated around her. There was something not right about this, something that was niggling at her brain. She wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was her gut didn't like it. And Lera always trusted her gut.

There was something about the way the massive creatures were spread out, the way their bones lay there. An ominous feeling settled over her that had nothing to do with their lack of water or crash landing. A communal grave yard? Maybe. One of the problems with deserts was that it was very hard to tell just how long anything had been there when it couldn't actually walk up, shake your hand, and tell you. Wind and sand stripped the hardest stones down to pebbles and grain. Heat baked everything to a hard crisp. These things could have been dead a year and looked like they'd been here for centuries. Hell, they could have been here for centuries and a sandstorm uncovered them a week ago.

But there was just something…familiar about the scene. She'd never seen an elephant graveyard, never actually been to Earth, but she'd seen others. She distinctly remembered a field trip to Maja 3 during her second tier in Primary to the Craz graveyards. Horny, scaly creatures, zoologists found it fascinating that their death behavior was so similar to that of elephants. The bones there didn't look anything like this. They were jumbled, the creatures decomposing wherever they lay down to die. They were stacked or separate and in complete disarray. They certainly weren't all pointed in the same direction like this.

No, whatever these things were, they looked…almost like they should still be moving. Like they were frozen in time in some sort of migration, stripped and left to wallow in the sands. Perpetually stuck were they were. She'd seen things like that before too.

Her jaw clenched as they went down to take a better look. No, something was definitely not right.

**ooOoo**

Riddick leaned back in the hollow of bone, waiting for the others to pass him by. Particularly the biggest thorn in his ass who was waving a gun around beneath him. Stupid merc, didn't even know how to look up properly. Probably, though, he shouldn't be complaining. He had to wonder, though, just how Johns was planning to capture him again when there wasn't a handy orphanage around to toast.

After he'd been spotted he'd decided to go on ahead of the group instead of pacing or following them. He still wasn't sure how that woman had been able to spot him, but he didn't like it. Definitely would have to keep an eye on that one. He'd found the graveyard a while ago and decided it was probably a perfect hiding spot for the moment. Not too far away from the crash-site and it offered not only plenty of places to escape the constant sun and heat, but and equal number of handy places like this to hide himself. Not to mention the raw materials, he grinned to himself as his hand clenched unconsciously around the bone shiv he'd fashioned. Not the most elegant weapon he'd ever held, but it would do for now. And frankly, he felt better with some sort of blade on him.

He'd actually just finished it when the others had shown up and he'd had to secret himself away. His lips twisted in disgust. Idiots. Loud fuckin' idiots. Didn't they have enough brains not to go announcing their presence like that when there might be hungry predators around? Not that there seemed to be, but they sure as hell didn't know that. Actually, come to think of it, he _was_ getting kind of hungry.

Dropping down silently from his perch, well after Johns had moved on, Riddick stole through the bones on a silence born of survival. Most people wouldn't have believed someone his size could move so quietly. Most people learned too late just how wrong they were. He'd never been one to like attention and being quiet helped with that. Attention usually meant bad things in his life. Either it was the cops or mercs deciding to step in and make your life annoying, or it was someone who thought they could get something from you. Something you might not want to give. Riddick had learned early on that it was better to go unnoticed.

The sound of voices drew him. While he didn't want to be found, it was better to know what was going on. He was pretty sure some dead person had once said that knowledge was power. Well, they were fuckin' right. More than once Riddick had managed to get himself out of a tight spot just by paying attention to what went on around him.

"Drink?" The unmistakable voice of Johns. Riddick inched closer, seeing the seated figure of a woman through the slats of what had to be rib bones.

"Probably shouldn't do this, dehydrates you even more," a feminine voice said as she took the bottle and drank anyway. _Our fearless Captain_, Riddick mused to himself as he crept forward.

Johns muttered something, hanging his head as though he were abashed. Riddick raised an eyebrow. Abashed? Johns wasn't ever abashed. The fucker was colder and more ruthless than a politician. Just what the hell kind of game was he playing.

"You know you could have stayed back at the ship, probably should have. We don't find water, you know what happens," Johns offered with a kind look that almost had Riddick retching.

_What is this? _He sneered mentally. _The sweet little southern boy routine? The nice guy act? Either he's just trying to stay looking like a cop, or he's trying to get into her pants. Probably both._

"I wanted to get away," Fry said quickly.

"I've never seen a Captain so ready to leave her ship." Riddick raised an eyebrow. For once in his damn life he actually agreed with Johns. He may have to soak in bleach later. The notion just made him feel dirty. Still, it was interesting.

"I think we should keep moving." Riddick's brow twitched a little higher. Not the most subtle evasion he'd ever heard.

_Hmmm, _he mused. Now this could be helpful. There was obviously something bothering the brave Captain. Something, perhaps, that he could use later. Riddick wasn't a fool. He knew he couldn't stay solitary on this planet forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to have contact with one of the other survivors. If he knew how to work them he had a better chance of coming out ahead.

"What Owens mean," Johns cut in as she stood, "about not touching the handle?"

Fry paused. Now this was most definitely catching his interest. He remembered the other crewmember's screams before he died. He'd wondered as well, but he didn't know nearly enough about the class of freighter they'd been on to make a guess as to what 'handle' he'd been screaming about.

Riddick stood as Johns played the sweet and helpful ear to bend, momentarily amused and appalled at just how oblivious people can be. Here he was, not two feet from them and they had no idea he was there. Hell, he could probably reach out at touch one of them and they wouldn't even realize it. In fact, he thought, brining up his shiv, that wasn't such a bad idea.

"I'm not your captain," Fry went on, leaning against the bones of the giant ribcage behind her, her head tipped towards her little confidant, leaving the left side of her neck and head completely open. "During the landing, when things were at their worst Owens was at his best. He's the one that stopped the docking pilot from dumping the main cabin. The passengers."

Riddick paused, pulling the shiv back slightly as her words hit him. Well, that was unexpected. So, our little pilot was having an attack of conscience, was she? Interesting. Especially since she was so willing and able to save her own hide over everything else when it really came down to it. Now that was information he could use.

"And the docking pilot being?" Johns asked, just a bit of his civility fading. While Carolyn was struggling with her conscious again, Riddick slipped the blade through the bones and into her hair, cutting off a lock with a quick 'snick'. _Perfect._

"Well, I guess I'm a little more happy to be here than I thought," he barely heard Johns say as he examined the perfect cut his blade had made. _Primitive, _he thought as he brought the hair up to his face while they moved away before blowing it out of his fingers. _But effective._

Riddick spun around at the sound of a low chuckle behind him, his shiv brought up to bare, only to pause at seeing a woman leaning casually against the bones of the gigantic ribcage behind him. One with a very familiar smirk on her face. Lera Chase.

"Funny," she quirked an eyebrow at him, "I don't think I've ever seen the 'is this blade sharp enough to cut someone's hair without them noticing' test before."

Riddick continued to stare at her amused expression, more than a little irked that not only was she able to find him where the others couldn't—not once but twice—but that she'd been able to sneak up on him without his noticing. Obviously long enough to see the little test he'd performed. It really had been sort of a spur of the moment thing for him. Sure, he'd wanted to fuck with Carolyn a little bit, he liked messing with people, but it really had been a way to test his make-shift shiv. After all, there wasn't really anything else for him to test the sharpness on. Most people would have thought it more than a little nuts. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be disturbed or pleased that she immediately seemed to understand what he was doing.

"Though I have to say," she continued, pushing off the bones at her back, "that the whole sniffing it and blowing it away like that did look a little psycho."

He blinked at her behind his goggles, his expression not shifting as he tried to understand her warm and open tone. "Smelled funny."

Lera quirked an eyebrow at him and her lips twitched as he cursed himself silently for saying that. 'Smelled funny'? What the hell was he thinking? Finally, though, she nodded.

"Yeah, I've noticed," she said. "Root beer. Whatever it is she uses on her hair regularly smells like root beer. Strange."

Riddick tipped his head to the side slightly as he watched her. This woman was a complete mystery to him. There was nothing that she'd done since the crash that made any sense to him. She wasn't afraid of him, that much was obvious. She'd been kinder to him than anyone he had ever met. Everything about her was a contradiction to what he'd come to know and expect.

"Here," she said, tossing something at him. He caught it easily with one hand and looked at it. It seemed to be some kind of rectangular, tinfoil packet. He looked back up at her with a raised eyebrow of his own. "It's an MRE," she explained. "Meal Ready to Eat. Thought you might be getting hungry. There's no hydro in there, unfortunately, and it tastes pretty much like plastic, but it's full of vitamins and all kinds of good things to keep you going. Probably part of why it tastes so bad. Good thing is there's enough in there to last a few days."

He looked down at the pack in his hands for a moment, completely confused at the gesture, before looking back up at the woman before him. What the hell was she?

"Why?"

Lera blinked. "Told you, thought you might be getting hungry." He frowned at her and she rolled her eyes. "People are getting jumpy," she explained. "Johns has got them all scared shitless about you. Personally I think it was that line about you coming back to skull fuck them in their sleep that really did it. Chances are if you risked a raid on the food stores you'd get blasted. There isn't exactly much to forage around here and you can't go forever without food."

"Got a hard time believing this is all about my well being," he growled at her. Lera smirked. He was really getting to hate that smirk.

"You're right, of course," she said, "I rarely do anything for just one reason."

He watched as she turned regarding the bones that surrounded them, waiting for an explanation.

"You know, the others think this is some kind of graveyard, like the elephant graveyards back on Earth," she started and Riddick frowned at her. Definitely not the explanation he was looking for.

"You don't?" he asked, slightly curious as to just where she thought she was going with this.

"No, I don't." She slowly drew her fingers along the bones and he noticed for the first time that it was across a rather jagged grove running through them. Not just one, either, but a set. That ran completely parallel to each other. She reached the end of it and then found another. And another.

"Something killed these things," she said, softly, her eyes thoughtful. "Something with very, very sharp teeth. I don't know what they are, or where they are, but there's a very dangerous predator on this planet…and I don't think we need any more blood on the wind." She ended, giving him a very significant look.

Riddick snorted. Now this, he understood. "So, you really are just looking out for yourself."

She paused, just staring at him for a moment, completely serious and Riddick felt the smirk drop from his lips. Her eyes flicked down to the packet his was still holding before turning away.

"Yeah," she said in a sardonic tone as she walked away from him on silent feet, "that must be it."

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**AN:** Well, I hope you liked that bit. A couple more clues about Lera and a few more insights into the other characters. Let me know what you think and Review!


	6. Update Announcement

To all my readers,

I've been getting some reviews recently asking me to update and I realized that there have been some developments that those still interested in my story might want to know. First of all, I wanted to apologize for how long it has taken me to update, but I ran into a bit of a problem. Namely being that my neighbors apparently like to play with matches. (Actually, it was a flammable scarf draped over too high wattage of a lamp…dude, totally weak.) In any event, my computer had a melt down and my work went up in smoke. Literally. Thank god for renter's insurance. So the effect has been a gigantic headache of cleaning up, replacing, moving…etc. Also thankfully, my fanfic's to date were online so I could at least see what was written, since not many of my Word files were able to be restored. I've been working on the next update for this and another fic as well (which was almost friggin' finished!!!!!!) but with everything going on and the gigantic muse killer that is loosing twenty pages worth of writing and having to write it all over again, it's been somewhat slow. I thank you all for your patience and your continued support. It means a lot to me that there are still people out there that want to read my stuff. So thank you again, and remember…if you want to drape a scarf over a lamp for mood lighting, use an extremely low wattage bulb and a less than flammable scarf!!! Better yet, don't.

Love to one and all,

AG


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